Be Still My Beating Heart
by Muffy Morrigan
Summary: Attack from an unsuspected source threatens to bring Dean down. Will Sam be able to help him in time? HurtSick Dean and Angsty protective Sam. NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Like many writers I work through events in my life through the writing. Something came up Thursday night that resulted in a little ambulance ride (and why I didn't post anything on With What Life Remains). I would like to say Supernatural Fans are the most generous and wonderful people on earth I think. Along those lines I would like to thank the wonderful woman (whose name escapes me) who while hooking me up to all the beepy machines said she was a fan, discovering I was a fan and fanfic writer, offered to find out what was happening on the show, or if I ended up there longer than just overnight offered to download the episode and bring it in on her next shift! Thank you! I would also like to thank Dennis and my much loved beta Abni for holding my hand through one of the scariest events in my life!_

**Be Still My Beating Heart**

**Chapter One**

_Be still my beating heart  
Or I'll be taken for a fool  
It's not healthy to run at this pace_

_-Sting_

It was a sunny autumn day. The air was crisp and colored leaves spread across the ground in a bright carpet. The soft breeze was full of the scent of apples and slightly overripe berries. Pumpkins adorned nearly every doorway and large displays of squash and cornstalks decorated the grocery store.

Dean parked the Impala as close to the door as he could without actually parking in a handicap zone. Sam hopped out. Dean opened his door and stood up, then leaned against the car for a moment as the black spots cleared from his vision. _And that is getting increasingly fun. _He followed Sam into the store. They were in the mood for movies and junk food after a routine hunt. _Like there is anything such as a routine hunt. At least I could just fix Sammy up with a band-aid instead of stitches this time. _They had decided they needed a break for an evening, Sam was holding out for more than just one day off, but Dean wanted to be back on the road. _And that has nothing to do with this sinking feeling, nothing at all, nope._

He trailed his brother through the store. Sam headed over to produce as they walked in. "Dude, what the hell, how does anything over here qualify as junk food?" Dean said nearly running Sam over with the cart.

"An apple or two won't kill you, Dean," his brother said in his chiding "doing what's best for you" voice that had a tendency to make Dean seriously consider fratricide.

"It might, you never know—the whole apple thing didn't work out very well for Snow White." Sam rolled his eyes and put a bag of honey crisp apples in the cart. Dean smiled, they were his favorite and Sam knew it. _Ok, Sam, you can get away with that, but just stay clear of the spinach. Got it?_

They wandered down the chip aisle, up the soft drinks and along the beer cooler. Dean pushed the cart into the candy aisle and spied the extra large bags of M&Ms. _And check it out, on sale. Two for $6. Maybe things are looking up for a change. _He bent over, grabbed the candy and straightened up. The wave of dizziness hit him like running into a wall. One second he was standing there with candy in his hand and the next he was on the floor, a very anxious Sam bending over him.

"Dean?" His brother's face was white.

"I'm ok, sorry, just a head rush that got out of control. It's been too long since lunch," he said letting Sam help him up. _Yep, just a head rush, nothing to worry about, it's not like they have been getting worse and worse for the last five days. And we'll just ignore that pressure in the chest too, I think. Good plan._

"I don't know, maybe we should find the local clinic?" Sam said with the little frown of concern curling between his eyebrows.

"I'm ok, Sammy," he said, putting the candy in the cart and pushing it down the aisle, leaning on it a little. _I wonder if I should go to the clinic? Nope. I'm just overreacting. It was a rough hunt and I'm beat, maybe have a bit of a cold or something._

"Ok, Dean, but maybe I should drive?" Sam said with a smile

Dean could see concern and worry in the smile. _He is so transparent. _ "Nice try. Nope."

"Fine, jerk."

"Bitch."

They had found a motel at the edge of town, away from the highway for a change. It was nice and quiet and the room had a kitchenette with a full size fridge and a stove with an actual oven. On the way back from the store they had stopped off at a "take and bake" pizza place and were well supplied when they walked into the room in the early afternoon. Sam turned the oven on and Dean flopped down on the bed and flipped the TV on.

He shifted on the bed. His middle back was bothering him again. It had been for a couple of days and he seemed to notice it a little more each evening. The pressure in his chest was also a getting a little worse. _If whoever is standing on me would just move I'd feel better. _He sighed. He had to admit to himself that he wasn't feeling very well, and he hadn't been. The pain in his chest had a slightly familiar feel to it and it scared him a little. _No, Roy and a Reaper took care of that. I'm just working myself up and having an anxiety attack or something. _

Sam came over and handed him a Coke and sat beside him on the bed. Dean had chosen the one with the better view of the TV. Sam looked at the TV. "No, Dean, no way. I have seen Spinal Tap enough to give me cancer. Isn't there anything else on?"

"Rock of Love? Hot chicks fighting over Brett Michaels? Good stuff, at least one of them is a stripper. Or how about the Dallas Cowboy's Cheerleader show?"

"How about not reality? Is there anything that is not a reality show?" Sam said looking at him, eyebrows up.

"American's Next Top…"

"No, Dean, not reality. How about this documentary on…" Sam stopped when Dean groaned. "Ok, no documentary. Hey Ghostbusters is on," Sam said with a smile.

"Ghostbusters? The original? 'Crossing the beams is bad'," he said smiling at his brother.

"End of the universe bad?" Sam misquoted. "Yeah, the original, starts in five minutes, and the pizza should be done by then."

"Good call, Sammy, good call," Dean said leaning back.

"Thanks," Sam said, getting up as the timer on the stove started beeping. He cut the pizza and brought it over to the bed and settled in to watch the movie.

The Stay Puft Marshmallow man was beginning to terrorize New York when Dean noticed he was getting a little dizzy. _Just lying here, how can I be dizzy just lying here. _He was having a hard time getting his breath and his chest was starting to hurt with a growing insistence. He shifted a little. _Pizza, chips, chocolate and beer—I have heartburn, that's all just a little heartburn. Yep. I am just getting freaked over heartburn. Or maybe it's a tiny anxiety attack. It's nothing. Ok, I've been a little dizzy for a week and the headache is getting worse, but the more I worry…It's just stress._ He tried to take a deep breath and felt the odd flutter against his ribcage that had become just one more fun symptom in the last day or two.

He sensed Sam's eyes on him. "You're missing the best part—this is the 'wait I thought you said crossing the beams was bad' part. One of the best moments in the movie," he said trying to distract his brother.

"Your face is flushed Dean, do you feel ok?" Sam said putting a hand against his forehead.

"Dude, who died and made you Florence Nightingale?" He said batting his brother's hand away. Dean could hear his breath coming out a little harder than usual.

"You just don't look good, Dean."

"I'm ok, Sam. Ok?"

Sam frowned at him. "Are you sure?

"Yeah, fine. I ate a little too much."

"Ok," Sam stood. "I'm going to dive into the shower. Is that ok? Are you sure you'll be ok?"

"Uh, Florence? I'm ok, don't need a nurse, go away," he said, trying to keep his voice normal, fighting the urge to pant. _I'm fine Sam, just stop looking at me and I'll be just fine._ Sam looked at him for another long moment before he grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom.

**XXX**

Sam carefully closed the bathroom door, taking one more look at Dean before shutting it. He was worried. Dean wasn't looking good, he had passed out in the store and for the last few days Sam was pretty sure his brother had been having dizzy spells. Once or twice he had grabbed Sam's arm for just half a second to steady himself and then laughed it off with the "just a head rush, wow and a good one, wish I could bottle that and sell it. I'd make a freaking fortune."

Sam leaned against the wall. Now that he was out of Dean's sight, he finally let go of the emotions he'd kept under strict control all day. He felt his hands start to shake and suddenly it became difficult to breathe. _Don't lose it now, relax, take a deep breath. This isn't helping Dean, he doesn't need to worry about you freaking out. He's got plenty to think about, that much is obvious. Although he won't tell me, thinking that he's protecting me by keeping it from me. He doesn't realize that all his evasiveness just make it worse, I can see right through them to the fear that he's trying to hide I don't need to hear him tell me when something's wrong, I can sense it when something's off. I've known for days that something was wrong with him, but it seems to have gotten much, much worse today, with him passing out in the store and being all flushed and breathless._

Sam took a deep breath, trying to regain control of his emotions. Suck it up, this is no way for a Winchester to behave. He smiled, a small, sad smile. Yep, hiding it all away, patented Winchester way. He turned on the shower, then finished undressing and stepped under the hot water, hoping it might soothe the tension in his body and mind.

_He needs to see a doctor I think, but how exactly do I get him to do that? He thinks that asking for help unless you're actually missing a foot is a weakness. __And even then he'd probably just jump on one leg rather than admit that he needs help. But me he drags off to the emergency room for a scratch. He's not used to the thought that sometimes his body just__ acts on its own and that when it does, it can be just as—actually even more—serious or life-threatening as when he gets slashed by some creature. How am I going to convince him to go and get it checked out? _

He sighed. Dean was good at keeping things from his brother and the fact that these little symptoms were beginning to get noticeable was starting to panic Sam. He never let on when he was sick or hurt unless…Unbidden came the vision of his brother standing outside their hotel room after he had been electrocuted, joking about not wanting to die without hot nurses around. Or the time he had been attacked by the…Or the time he…

The memory of those earlier close calls brought back the old fear of losing his brother, the one constant in a tumultuous life, the one person who had made all he'd—_they'd_—been through bearable. His breath caught in his throat and he felt his entire body start to tremble as tears sprung unbidden from his eyes.

_Oh God, Dean. Do you realize how hard it is for me to see you like that and know that you won't let me help you until it's almost too late? Do you realize how much you mean to me, Dean? Do you realize that if I lose you, there's nothing left for me, no one to keep me together when I fall apart, no one for me to hold together and care about and give my life meaning and purpose?_

He mentally shook himself. _Just stop, don't do this. You're not going to convince him to go to the doctor by getting emotional. You know that won't work. No, you'll have to convince him how serious this might be. And if he doesn't, well, then I guess I'll just have to knock him out and take him there myself. I'm not letting him fight on this. He's going, and that's that! _

Pleased with his decision, Sam quickly finished his shower, stopping briefly to check his reflection._ Can't let him see how worked up I got.__ He'll just think I'm overreacting and get more stubborn than ever_. Satisfied that the shower had washed away all evidence of his tears, he finished dressing and then carefully eased the door open a crack and peeked out at his brother.

And panicked.

**XXX**

Dean watched Sam close the door and knew his brother was standing watching him for a minute before shutting the door all the way. _I'm fine, Sam. _He was trying to focus on his breathing, trying to stop the pounding in his chest. It felt very familiar now. The pain, that odd flutter, the fact that he couldn't take a deep breath. _My heart, it's my heart again. I thought that was cured. Why would it come back now? It's been a long, long time. Oh, god, how do I hide this from Sam till it goes away? What if it doesn't go away?_

He shifted again. The pain was really starting to get bad. It felt like someone with a stiletto heel was standing on his chest. _Someone who weighs about 300 pounds actually. _It was getting harder and harder to draw a deep breath. He was focusing on not panicking, but that was getting harder too. He heard the water turn on in the shower and tried to watch TV. The pain was beginning to radiate up and down his chest. His heart was pounding, laboring. He was getting dizzier and seeing black spots in front of his eye. His throat was dry. He tried to get up to get a drink of water and ended up on the floor, and he knew several seconds had passed, commercials had interrupted the show he had been watching. Dean pulled himself back onto the bed and tried to get control of the rising panic.

_It's just an anxiety attack, that's all it is. And I am making it worse by getting worked up. I'm ok. It's just stress that's doing this. I'm ok. There is nothing wrong and if I worry Sam with this I'll just feel stupid. I'm ok. If he took me to the doctor and it was just anxiety I'd never live it down. I'm ok. It's just anxiety, just stress. I'm ok. It's no big deal, I'm worked up over nothing. I'm ok. I need to calm down. I'm ok. I'm just a little freaked, scaring myself. I'm ok…No, no, I'm not ok at all, I think something is wrong. Sam, are you done yet? I think something is wrong._

He put a hand on his chest, trying to calm his breathing and he thought he heard the bathroom door open. "Sam?" He managed to get the word out, it sounded a lot worse than he thought. He knew his brother would hear the panic and pain in that one single syllable.

Sam was by the bed in less than a second, his hand going down on Dean's forehead. "Dean? What?"

"Sam…" he swallowed. _Wow, getting hard to talk, Sammy._ "I need to go to the clinic, I think. It's bad." He tried to smile.

"Crossing the beams bad, Dean?"

"Yep."

Sam looked at him for a minute. A particularly painful push on his heart made Dean grab for his brother's hand and hold on, hoping that would help ease the pain and panic. Sam looked down at Dean's hand holding on to his with white knuckles, then back at him. "No, Dean. 911. I'm calling 911." Without letting go of his hand Sam picked up the phone, sounding remarkably calm, for all that there were tears in his eyes. "I think my brother is having a heart attack. Yes, the Viking Arms Motel, room 27. Thank you." Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, Dean moved a little closer so his shoulder was against Sam's leg. Sam held on to his hand, trying to smile.

Dean could read the fear in his brother's eyes. "Sorry," he got out.

Sam squeezed his hand, "it's ok, Dean. I'm here."

"Thanks," he said holding on to his brother's hand. _I know, not like me to hold your hand in any situation, but Sammy, I'm scared. More than a little scared. I feel like I might be dying._

He could hear sirens in the distance, getting closer.

_**To Be Continued**_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you everyone! And just to let you know I have not abandoned_ With What Life Remains_. I should be posting a new chapter tomorrow or the next day—all this enforced bed rest is great for the writing!_

**Be Still My Beating Heart**

**Chapter Two**

_Shattered like a falling glass  
I'm not ready to be broken just yet_

_-Sting_

The sirens were getting closer. _Thank god, I am not feeling very good. Sammy? I feel like I'm dying, really, I do. I don't like this at all, it reminds me a little of… I'm glad they are almost here. _Dean had a hold of his brother's hand, trying to pull some of Sam's seeming calm into himself. It was helping, a little. _If Sammy were actually calm it might help more. I think he is more freaked than I am, which is pretty freaked._

Sam smiled at him again, "It's ok, Dean. I'm here. It'll be ok." It was the twentieth time Sam had said it since he called 911.

"I know," he got out. _Oh, god, are those tears? Am I crying? _He could feel them running down his face, involuntary, like the tears after plucking a hair or hitting the funny bone. _Great, just great, and now the paramedics get to see that too. This is just getting better and better. _

"I think they're here," Sam said giving his hand a little squeeze and then standing up. "I'm just going to let them in, but I'll be right here, ok?"

"Sam?" Dean said, rolling his eyes.

His brother grinned at him, the worry still very apparent in his eyes, but trying to make it normal. "Ok. I get it." He walked over to the door and opened it.

Dean could see the large fire engine rolling to a stop, he could still hear another siren in the distance. _Probably the ambulance. They'll just check me here and say it's just an anxiety attack and give me something and tell me to see a doctor in a day or two. I'm sure that's what it is. That's all it is, yep, getting worked up over something stupid, the pain is just from the panic. That's all. Sam?_ He saw his brother talking to the firemen as they rushed calmly into the room. _ I wonder how they do that? Rush but look almost serene? _They were getting Dean's information from Sam. One of them came in and smiled the medic smile at Dean. "How are we feeling?"

"Not good," Dean wheezed.

"I bet," he said still smiling. _I would kill you for that smile, but I don't feel like it right now. But when I'm up, killing you. Sam? Where are you? _The man slid a clip onto his left forefinger and then put an oxygen mask over his face. "I am going to get your blood pressure now, ok?"

Dean nodded, the mask was not helping the panic at all. He felt claustrophobic. His chest was aching, his heart pounding each beat hammering against him, pain after pain after pain. He knew the panic was making it worse and tried to calm down. It wasn't working. _Sam? You around? _The blood pressure cuff inflated to the point of pain and started deflating. He was looking at the ceiling fighting a huge wave of nausea. The other siren was getting closer. Suddenly he felt weight settle on the bed beside him and Sam took his hand again. The panic backed off a tiny bit.

The other siren stopped just outside the door and Dean heard the rattle and clank of the stretcher getting pulled from the back of the ambulance and wheeled into the room. One of the two men came over to Dean, smiling that smile. _I'd kill him too, but I would have to get up and that just doesn't seem fun right now. _It was still getting harder to breathe and his chest was beginning to move into agony, he knew he was holding onto his brother's hand with near desperation. _Just a little freaked, Sam. I'm ok. Just a little freaked. Sam, are you ok? Sorry about this. I don't mean to scare you. It kind of hurts and it scares me just a tiny bit you know. _

"My name is Eric and that is Paul," he said, gesturing towards the man pushing the stretcher in. "We are going to take you out and check your heart and see what's up, ok? Can you stand?" Dean nodded and let Eric help him up, he swayed as the dizziness rose up and grabbed him and black spots started coalescing into one large point of blackness. He heard his brother asking them to be careful as Eric helped him down on the stretcher. _Sam? Where are you? _Sam came around and grabbed his hand again, somehow sensing he needed that contact.

They wheeled him out and slid him into the ambulance, he saw Sam peek through the windows at the back before he walked around to the other door. They let Sam up into the ambulance as Eric stuck down the patches for the EKG. _All of this is not really helping the panic. It is convincing me there is something really wrong with me. Which is just not good. Sam, are you ok? I don't think so, you look white, maybe you should sit down and put your head between your knees. _Dean heard the machine to his right beeping then the sound of something printing. Eric reached over him and ripped the sheet off the printer and frowned. "Ok, we need to take you in," he looked up at Sam. "Do you want to ride with him or follow in your car?"

Dean saw Sam hesitate. _Bring the car Sam, if you have the car it means I get to leave. If you come with me, it means it's serious. Bring the car, Sammy. Please. _

Sam looked at him with a little frown on his face, then patted Dean's chest gently. "I'll follow in the car, I'm right behind you Dean, ok?" Dean nodded and rolled his eyes. Sam grinned at him. It felt almost normal. "Just hang in there, I'll be right behind you. I'm here, Dean. I'm not leaving you. They're going to help you, they're going to make you better. Just hold on, Dean," _Jeez, Sam, I'm not six you know. I know you won't leave. Just don't take too long to catch up, ok?_

The ambulance door slammed closed and Dean heard the beep as it backed up, turning around and suddenly the sirens were on. _Sirens? I don't think that's good. I hope that doesn't freak Sam out too much. It's freaking me out. _

"Have you taken any aspirin today?"

"No," Dean said through the mask, through the pain. He took the pills from Eric.

"They are baby aspirin, so just chew them up. I'm just going to get an IV started ok? You'll feel a little poke. On a scale of one to ten how is your pain?"

_He had to wait until I was chewing to ask? And what kind of baby would want to take these things, they are completely gross. Is that supposed to be orange or vomit flavor? _"Eight, maybe eight and a half."

"Ok, I am going to give you something that might help, I need to spray it under your tongue ok?" Dean nodded and the medic pulled the mask away from his face and pumped two sprays of something bitter and minty into his mouth.

"Breath freshener?" He said as the mask was settled back over his face.

"No, nitro, if it helps the pain it will let us know some of what is going on."

_And that is a lot of words telling me nothing. What is going on? Can't you tell me? Am I going to die? _He looked up at the ceiling feeling the vehicle swaying. If anything it felt like the pain in his chest was increasing, the agony becoming a burning ball centered on the left hand side of his rib cage. His hands were beginning to tingle. _If this is serious what do I do? Other than have Sam kidnap me from the hospital? Maybe we can get to the Grand Canyon before something happens? I wonder how long it would take to drive? I would like to see it before I die._

"Any better?" Eric said, with the small spray bottle in his hand. Dean shook his head and the medic gave him another dose. "Was that your brother?" Dean nodded. "What kind of car would he be driving?"

"Impala, '67," Dean said.

"Really? Nice car." He stood and looked through the back windows. "He's right behind us. If he were any closer he'd rear end us." He sat back down. "Know how he feels though, if it were my brother I might be a little worried too." He smiled. "Any better?" He glanced up at something then pulled the mask up again. "Before you lie to me, I'll just give you another dose, if three don't help we'll try something different."

Dean nodded, looking at the ceiling again. _That hook looks remarkably like the summoning rune for a demon. I wonder if they know that? Sam? Are you back there? I am a little freaked by this I think and it hurts. I think what freaks me out so much is it is all out of my control. I don't know what's happening, I can't fix it. I don't like that feeling._ The pain had not diminished, if anything it was getting harder to breathe and his chest was a source of agony, stabbing pain radiating out in all directions. Eric made some adjustment on the board behind Dean and the smell of what was coming through the oxygen mask changed a little.

"How's the pain now?" The medic said.

"Seven?" Dean said, lying. _I wonder if lying is a good idea in situations like this?_

"Sure," Eric said pulling a syringe out of the chest pocket of his uniform. "I'll give you half first. This is morphine."

Dean felt a tiny sting in his elbow as the drug was pushed into the IV. Several seconds later he felt the weird pressure in the back of his neck he always associated with morphine. _I wonder if anyone else feels it that way? I'll have to ask Sam. You still back there, Sammy? I need to know you are there. I'm hanging on, ok? Don't worry about that. We'll be back together in just a bit. I don't think I've told you this, and it is probably the morphine talking Sam, but it's always better, easier when we are together. Don't expect me to blurt that out, but it's true. I need to have you around, makes it better. _The pain backed off a little bit. He was still having a hard time breathing and the nausea was getting worse in the back of the swaying ambulance.

"Feeling sick to your stomach?" Dean nodded. Eric pulled out another syringe. "This will help, can't have you vomiting back here," he said with a wink.

Dean felt the pressure, and then a burning pain tracing up his arm. "Hey, that stings."

"Really? You are the first person who has ever mentioned that, even though it is supposed to be a common side effect." He stood up a little, looking out the back again. "Your brother is still back there. Younger or older?"

"Younger," Dean said fighting the pain, the dizziness. _I think he's trying to calm me down. It's helping a little._

"I'm the younger, too. He seemed to be taking it really well, I would have been a little panicked I think."

"He is," Dean said smiling under the mask. _I am too, actually, I don't feel much better and shouldn't I with morphine in me now? _It was getting harder to breathe and the combination of drugs seemed to be making him more dizzy and panicked rather than diminishing it.

"Ok, a little more maybe," Eric said and again the tiny sting and funny pressure at the base of his neck, the pain backed of a little more. "More like a seven now?" Dean nodded. The pressure in his chest was still increasing, even though the pain was backing off a little. The medic made another adjustment on something behind Dean. It didn't seem to help, whatever he had done, the pain was still very much there and the odd flutter against his ribcage was really beginning to bother him.

_I don't want to die._

**XXX**

The minutes from the time he dialed 911 until he heard the approaching siren and saw the lights flickering through the motel window were the longest in Sam's life. He'd never felt more helpless, unable to help Dean except for holding his hand and talking to him, being there, sharing his fear and pain, trying to make it easier to bear for Dean while keeping his own terror in check, not giving in to the tightening knot of panic in his own chest that threatened to overwhelm him.

When the paramedics finally came and started checking and treating Dean, getting him on the gurney, taking him to the ambulance and hooking him up to various medical equipment, he found himself unwilling to let go of Dean's hand, sensing that their connection was as important to Dean as it was to him.

After the last of the tests, one of the medics looked at Dean, stating "Ok, we need to take you in," then looked at Sam and asked "Do you want to ride with him or follow in your car?"

Sam's first instinct was to stay with Dean all the way, but then he noticed Dean looking at him, a look of intense unspoken pleading in his eyes._I think he wants me to take the car, he needs to know she's there in there in the parking lot waiting to take him away from there, waiting for him to come home. I think he needs to believe that he's going to get out of there. And so do I._ "I'll follow in the car," He put his hand down on his brother's chest, patting him gently, "I'll follow in the car, I'm right behind you Dean, ok?" Dean nodded and rolled his eyes. Sam grinned. _Yeah, I get it, but I know you're scared Dean, you can't hide that from me either, you know._ "Just hang in there, I'll be right behind you. I'm here, Dean. I'm not leaving you. They're going to help you, they're going to make you better. Just hold on, Dean."

Then their connection was broken, the doors were closed and the ambulance took off, lights flashing and the siren screaming its desperate warning call into the night.

Sam stumbled back into the motel room to fetch the keys to the Impala, then ran to the car, throwing the door open and falling into the driver's seat. It took him three attempts to get the key into the ignition, his shaking hands making him fumble and drop the keys twice. _Oh, god, Dean, hang on, please hang on. I'm coming, Dean, I'm there with you, you're not alone, you know that right?_ He finally managed to start the car and pulled out of the parking lot after the ambulance, blinking rapidly to clear his blurred vision and forcing air into his lungs to fight the knot of fear in his chest that threatened to suffocate him.

_Oh, god, please let him get through this, please don't take him away from me, he's all I've got. He doesn't deserve this, not to go like this, there's so much he hasn't done, there's so much we haven't done. We've only just started to be brothers again, I can't lose him now._ He prayed like he'd never prayed before, the anguished words screaming out into the night. He called out from the very core of his being to whatever divine entity might be listening.

_What's happening in that ambulance? Are you ok, Dean? Or are you?__No, they'd turn off the sirens, I know that. If you were... the sirens would be off. I won't even think about... you're not!__ Please, Dean, hang on, I'm here, Dean, can you hear me? And I'll be there to help you through this. Because you're getting through, you know, there's just no other option, you hear me?_

The helplessness of his situation struck him full force in that moment, the ignorance of what was happening, the lack of ability to do anything to help Dean. _I should have insisted on going to that clinic earlier, Hell, I should have just snatched the keys and taken him there, maybe it wouldn't have gotten this bad if I had gotten him help earlier. I'll never forgive myself if… Dean, please be ok, please, I can't go on without you._

He finally saw the hospital up ahead and soon pulled into the parking lot, throwing the Impala into the first vacant space he found then sprinted for the emergency room. _Hang on, Dean, I'm coming, I'm here, just hang on, Dean._

**XXX**

It was probably the longest ride of his life. The pain was only a little better and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Eric kept checking the EKG, printing it and looking at him. _And is that supposed to make me feel better? Cause it doesn't really. Sam? This guy is making me a little nuts, I think you should have come along, could have talked to him, explained those looks to me. Sam? Yeah, you need to be here, letting you drive was a big mistake. Would rather not die alone, if that is what those looks mean. Sammy? You still back there? I hope we're there soon._

"Has anyone ever said you have arrhythmia?"

"What?" Dean said, _Oh, yeah, feel so much better now. Much calmer. _His breathing increased slightly, he was starting to get very light-headed. _Sam? What the hell does he mean?_

"You do, look," and the medic leaned over to show him the little squiggles on the page. They meant nothing to Dean. "Amazing. How's the pain?"

"Good," Dean said with a grimace. "Really good." Eric nodded and another tiny pushing sting, the pressure at the base of his neck and finally a tiny bit of actual relief. It was still hard to breathe, he knew his heart was overworked, he could feel it pounding, but at least it didn't hurt quite so bad. _Sam? You still back there? I'm not having a lot of fun now, even with the drugs, not really sure how much my body will actually take. God, I hope this isn't some stupid anxiety attack, I would never live that down and Sammy would put me on a diet of raw tofu or something. Sam? I think we are almost there, hurry, ok?_

The ambulance had started slowing down, a sudden twist in his chest made Dean gasp. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Black spots were dancing in front of his eyes again and he felt his body fighting for air, fighting through the pain. Eric looked at him with concern and did something, the air coming into his lung, what little was getting there, felt like it was on fire. Dean was fighting for every breath, his chest started hurting again. He was suffocating. He knew it, this was the end.

_Sammy? You still there? Sam? If this is just anxiety, it's ok, __I would rather have you there to tease me than be alone. This really sucks and frankly little brother I would rather not die alone if that is what's happening. _

_**To Be Continued**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Be Still My Beating Heart**

**Chapter Three**

_I sink like a stone that's been thrown in the ocean  
My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion_

_-Sting_

The sirens abruptly cut off. _Hope that doesn't mean I'm dead. _The ambulance went up a small hill and came to a stop, the back doors were pulled open and a blast of cold air rolled over Dean. They pulled the stretcher out and rolled him into the hospital. He watched the tiles go by, trying to count them to keep his focus away from the pain, from his hammering heart, from the insistent black spots dancing in front of his eyes. They were calling him to the dance, he didn't want too.

They rolled him into a curtained cubicle, there was someone else in the room, he could hear her voice, it didn't sound very good. _Oh, I bet this is going to be fun. _Eric helped him stand and settled him into the hospital bed, lifting the back so Dean was more or less sitting up, it did seem to be easier to breathe in that position. "Someone will be right in," the medic said. He gave Dean's arm a little squeeze, "If I see your brother before I leave, I'll make sure he gets to the right room for you, ok?" Dean nodded.

He watched the medic walk behind the curtain screening Dean from the corridor. He felt like he'd been left alone in that busy emergency room, he thought he could hear Eric talking to someone, but he was alone in a little circle of pain, of breathlessness. He tried to hear what they were saying about him—he only caught about every third or fourth word. Finally after what seemed like an hour of trying to breathe, of listening to the pounding of his heart, a woman in scrubs walked around the curtain.

"I am just going to get you all set up and run another EKG, ok?" She smiled at him and pulled off the patches the medics had put on and stuck down different ones. _What, I'm not bad enough you have to torture me with a skin peel too? Don't you guys all use the same damn patches? _Dean was watching her face as she read the data on the screen. She didn't look that worried. _Maybe my heart is not actually exploding, even though it feels that way. Sam? Where are you? _

"I'll be right back," she said walking away, leaving him alone again, not telling him anything, leaving him struggling to breathe, fighting the black spots, the pain in his chest still very much there. _What's going on?_

Dean closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He had to admit he was scared, it was all so out of his control, he didn't understand what was happening and no one would tell him. He was in pain and nothing seemed to be helping a lot, he couldn't breathe and that was the worst part, utterly terrifying as he tried to pull air into his lungs and it got harder. And now he was alone. The panic was filling the vacuum left in his chest where the oxygen couldn't go, it made his heart pound even harder, he could hear the beeping on the monitor accelerate. He was alone. He felt a tear run down his face, a reaction to the pain, to the panic. He focused, trying to breathe, fighting for each breath. Afraid for himself, afraid for Sam if something happened. It was all swirling around, an angry maelstrom of physical symptoms and emotion.

A gentle hand closed over his. "Hey, man, sorry, it took a minute to get parking," Sam said from beside him. "How are you doing?" Dean looked at his brother, Sam's eyes were suspiciously bright and red around the edges.

"Don't know, no one tells me anything," Dean said hoping Sam could understand him through the oxygen mask. _They won't even tell me if I'm dying Sammy._

Sam laughed at his sulky tone, it sounded a little forced, but it was a laugh, it made everything a bit better. "Well, I'm sure they'll tell me."

Another woman in scrubs came around the curtain, "Hi, I'm Heather, I have something here that might help you breathe a little easier."

Dean rolled his eyes over at Sam. _See, Sammy? All Heathers are hot, every single one of them and this one? Smoking. _

"Yeah, Dean, I remember," Sam said with a crooked smile.

"Let's have you sit up for a minute and blow into this for me?" She pulled the oxygen mask off and helped him sit up. Dean did as he was told then she let him lay back. She handed him a plastic contraption. "You need to take all of this. Breathe through it, ok? It might make your heart feel a little funny."

"Cause it doesn't feel bad enough now?" Dean said, before he started taking the medicine. It was bitter.

"Looks like a bong, dude," Sam said sitting down on the stool beside the bed. He still had Dean's hand in his. _And you know all about bongs, Sammy? _Sam must have heard the thought somehow, he looked at Dean with his eyebrows up, "I went to college, you know, Dean." Dean rolled his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Dean sort of shrugged. _My heart is exploding, I can't breathe, my chest hurts, I'm completely freaked out and to top it off I am breathing through a bong. _Sam smiled and squeezed his hand. _And I am not going to get to live down that hand soon, either, I bet. Although thanks for being over there Sam. _The woman in the next bed started screaming, medical staff ran in and slammed the curtain closed. _And this just gets better and better._His heart was really starting to pound, it actually felt fluttery against his ribcage. He noticed Sam was looking at the screen for the monitor with a little frown between his eyebrows. The bong started making a hissing noise. _I guess it's empty. _He set it down on the bed and laid back.

"Uh, Sam?"

"It's ok, Dean, I'm here." His brother said smiling at him.

"Hi, I'm here to get some blood, won't take a minute," a kid who looked about twelve sat down on a stool on the other side of the bed from Sam. Another man in scrubs came up beside the guy on the stool. He started giving the guy with the needle instructions. _Uh, what? What the hell is going on?_ Dean looked away from his arm and at his brother, Sam was watching the two guys with the needle. Dean felt it go in, and again and again. He was trying to keep the arm relaxed, trying to stay still as the two of them dug around in his arm looking for a vein. Sam was starting to look a little green as he watched them. _Why won't they stop? It's not working, just stop, please stop._

"How are you doing?" The one without the needle asked him.

"Well at least that's keeping my mind off the rest of it," Dean said.

"Yeah, I remember reading about that, the one pain can override the other, cool isn't it?"

_Oh, yeah, cool, just freaking great. _"What the hell?" He said after a minute or two more, right as he said it pain shot up his arm and exploded in his brain with a force that drove him back into the bed, he squeezed Sam's hand even harder. _I think they just hit a nerve._

"That's not working, just stop," Sam said. Dean opened his eyes, Sam was angry, his face red as he watched them.

"Let's try the other one," the kid said pulling the needle out and starting in again on the other side of Dean's elbow.

_Chest hurts, can't breathe, feel like I'm dying and now, now I am an experimental pincushion. Keeps getting better. _They were now digging at the other side of his elbow. It hurt, the pain was sharp, stabbing and it did seem to override the other a little. His body was completely tense fighting that continued jabbing. He kept his right arm relaxed however. _Don't want to make anything worse than it already is, of course that would be hard at this point. What the hell are they doing? _Finally they stopped and started poking at his hand with a finger.

"We'll take it from there I think," the one without the needle said. They started working on his hand. Dean was watching his brother's face as he watched the two guys with the needle. He looked like he was ready to toss them out of the room. Sam was angry to the point of violence, he had that look in his eyes Dean had only seen maybe three of four times in their adult life. Sam was in a killing mood.

They finished and gathered up the vials of blood. "You did really good, keeping that arm relaxed made it a lot easier," the kid said.

"Yeah, thanks," Dean said, keeping a grip on Sam in case he tried to deck the guy. Sam watched them as they walked out. "It's ok, Sammy," he said. His brother looked at him with his eyebrows up. "Ok, no it's not, but it's over now, and they won't be back—at least not for awhile I hope."

"How are you feeling?"

"Good."

"Oh, that bad, huh?"

He was about to answer when Heather the Nurse showed up again and had him sit up and breathe into the thing again. She looked at it and frowned, the little ball hadn't gone up as far as it had the first time. "Ok, let's try standing up." Sam pulled him to his feet and held him while he stood swaying and tried blowing into it again. It still didn't go up as far. She kind of harrumphed. "You can lie back down." Dean leaned back in bed and watched as she put another dose of medicine in the bong. She stood watching until she was sure it was working, then smiled and left again. _I wish she told me what was going on. No one has. Sam looks worried._

Sam looked at Dean and rolled his eyes, "I know Dean, hot and efficient, right?"

Dean nodded. Sam dropped his hand back onto Dean's and sat looking around the edge of the curtain into the corridor beyond the door. As Dean watched Sam closed his eyes, the hand over Dean's tightened a bit. Sam sat that way for a long time, eyes closed, hand gently squeezing his hand. _What is he doing? _Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean with a smile.

A man in scrubs came in and hung a bag on the IV hook hanging from the ceiling. He smiled a little at Dean before hooking him up to the tube. He fiddled with the speed of the drip for a moment, adjusted it one last time and left. He hadn't said anything. _Why won't anyone tell us what is happening?_

"Nice that he told us what that was for," Sam said looking at him. Dean nodded. The bong started hissing.

"All done?" Sam said, turning and looking at the heart monitor, he frowned. "Dude your heart is going pretty fast."

"Yeah, Sammy, ya think?" Dean snapped, fighting the urge to scream. His heart was still pounding, fluttering in his chest, and it hurt, it was hard to breathe and still no one had bothered to tell him if he was having a heart attack or, actually, anything. "Sorry." _I'm panicked, and I hurt and no one will tell us what is wrong. Am I dying or what?_

"It's ok, Dean," Sam said smiling. "I understand. Someone is coming."

A man with a barrel chest in a bad plaid western shirt stopped at the end of the bed. He was in very round glasses and his mustache was full of gray hairs. _Definitely the hearty har har type. Jolly, annoyingly jolly._ "I'm Dr. Larson," he said. "So, having a bad night?"

Dean rolled his eye, but before he could answer Sam jumped in, "Yes, pain in his chest, he's having a hard time breathing. He has been dizzy for about the last week, maybe more, blacked out today in the grocery store, and maybe again in the motel room." Sam looked at Dean defying him to deny anything he had just said. _So you knew? I have to get better at hiding stuff I guess, don't I?_

"Well, that's not good, any history of heart trouble?" Dr. Larson walked around the bed, Sam had to move to make room for the doctor. He dropped his hand down on Dean's ankle, watching the doctor like a mother bear protecting her cub.

"No," Sam said. "No problems with his heart before."

_What? Did I just hear you…Sammy? Did you just lie to the doctor? I think I might have had a small problem with my heart once, you know. Seems to me it was giving out on me. Although in theory, it is completely fixed, so I guess it was a lie and wasn't a lie. That's my boy, Sammy._

The doctor had him sit up and listened to his heart and had him breathe deeply, moving the cold stethoscope around his chest and back. He frowned in the doctor way, a frown that said nothing. He looked at Dean's legs for some reason. He listened to his chest again and smiled. _What's happening? Am I dying? Can you say something? Well? No one has told me anything, will you? Please? At least for Sam's sake?_

"Well, I don't think you are having a heart attack," he said with his jolly voice.

"Just an anxiety attack?" Dean said. _I feel stupid, it's just an anxiety attack, Sam will never let me live this down._

"No, it is not an anxiety attack," Dr. Larson said. "No, if it were that you would be on your way by now."

"Then what?" Sam said, Dean could hear a bit of panic in his brother's voice, that diagnosis didn't help much.

"We just need to run a few more tests, you just sit back and relax," he said to Dean, he walked away, humming to himself.

"Yeah, cause that's relaxing," Dean said sourly, looking at his brother. Sam's face was tight with worry.

_I feel the same way Sammy. _

**XXX**

Sam sprinted into the hospital. He had been pulling into the parking lot when he heard the sirens suddenly stop. His heart had actually missed a couple of beats before he realized that they would have turned them off to pull into the emergency room, but it had given him enough of a shock to make it hard to get his brother's name out to the woman behind the desk. She said "seventeen" and pointed him in the direction of the double doors that led back to the emergency room. Number seventeen the second bed in the second door on the right. Sam went in, someone was yelling in the bed next to Dean. _And that will make it so much better for Dean, yeah. _He looked at Dean. _Oh, god, Dean you look terrible. _ His brother was lying on the bed, his eyes screwed tightly shut, pain very evident on his face. Sam could see how hard his brother was struggling for each breath. He watched as a tear ran down Dean's cheek. _Oh my god, Dean. It is bad, isn't it? Crossing the beams, end of the world bad? _

Sam walked swiftly to the bed and took Dean's hand in his. _I know, Dean, I know, but I need the contact right now. I am scared to death for you right now. You look like you need this too. _. "Hey, man, sorry, it took a minute to get parking. How are you doing?" Dean opened his eyes and looked at him. Sam squeezed his hand a little, a reaction to the fear he could see in his brother.

"Don't know, no one tells me anything," Dean said, his voice a little muffled through the oxygen mask.

Sam forced a laugh, Dean had sounded about six when he said that. "Well, I'm sure they'll tell me," he said. _They damn well will tell me._

He sat down beside his brother and watched people come and go. They came in and gave Dean a test and some medicine, they left, no one had spoken to him about what was going on. _God, he's freaked_. He hadn't let go of Sam's hand and the one time Sam had to move to the end of the bed while the nurse tested Dean's lungs, Dean had slid a foot off the edge of the bed, so his ankle was resting on Sam's leg, just making contact.

A very young man with a hospital badge on came in and said they were going to draw blood. Sam started to get nervous when someone else showed up and started carefully explaining to the kid how to do it with veins like Dean's. _Ok, they figured out his veins might be hard to get blood from and they send the rookie? That's really smart. _The young guy jabbed the needle in, and jabbed again. Dean's hand closed over his in a tight hold. The kid tried again, driving the needle in again and again. Sam could feel the tension in his brother as he tried to stay still. _Stop, stop, you're hurting him. I know it hurts a little but this is nuts, stop. STOP!_

They must have done something worse than the rest, Dean suddenly ground his teeth together and involuntary tears sprang to his eyes. "What the hell?"

Sam heard a lot in that statement. "That's not working, just stop." _And if you don't I think I might kill you with that needle. You are hurting him and it is not working, just stop. _He could feel his heart pounding a little as the anger about what they were doing to Dean started to get out of control.

They started in on the other arm, and after many, many attempts they finally went after his hand. Sam's anger diminished a little as he saw blood flowing out of the first attempt on his hand. _But only a little, I won't kill them, but I might…_ They finished and left, as they did Dean tightened his grip a little._Keeping me from doing something I might regret later? _He smiled at that thought.

The nurse came again, she didn't say much, just gave Dean another dose of the medicine. _No one is telling us anything. Is my brother going to be ok?_ It was too much, he looked away from Dean, out to the busy corridor, watching people walk up and down, no one coming in to them, no one telling them what was happening. _What will I do if Dean…No! He has to be ok, it's that simple. _He sighed and closed his eyes. _He has to be ok. I don't know if anyone is listening, but please, help my brother get through this. At least make what's happening now easier. I'm here, but he needs all the help he can get, please, I need him. I can't make it without him. Dean, damn it, you don't get to die. I will find every faith healer in the country, every voodoo priest, every witch or whoever to fix this for you. I don't know what I can offer, but that is there too. You just have to get better, Dean. You have to. _He took a deep breath and tried to channel that healing thought down into his hand and across to Dean, he squeezed his brother's hand a little and opened his eyes. Dean was watching him, he smiled. _I'm not telling you so don't ask._

Finally, after watching Dean's heart rate climb alarmingly, after trying to stay calm for his terrified brother, after watching more people come and go and still no one saying anything, someone came. The doctor._And where did they find this guy? Some bad Fifties western? Fixes gunshot wounds and drinks too much? Just great._

"I'm Dr. Larson," he said. "So, having a bad night?" _Oh great just the type that Dean loves to deal with._

Before Dean could lie to the doctor Sam broke in. "Yes, pain in his chest, he's having a hard time breathing. He has been dizzy for about the last week, maybe more, blacked out today in the grocery store, and maybe again in the motel room." He looked at his brother. _Yeah, Dean I bet you thought you were getting away with all that. I should have done something before this got out of control._

"Well, that's not good, any history of heart trouble?" Dr. Larson walked around the bed, Sam had to move to make room for the doctor. He moved down to the end of the bed, but put his hand down on Dean's leg. He knew they both needed that contact right then.

"No," Sam said. "No problems with his heart before." _Which is technically true. Roy fixed it._

He watched as the doctor examined Dean. His brother looked a little stressed._More than a little, I wish someone would just tell us what is going on. It's ok, Dean. I'm right here._

"Well, I don't think you are having a heart attack," the doctor finally said.

"Just an anxiety attack?" Dean said. Sam looked at his brother with a frown._Is that why he didn't say anything? He thought it was just anxiety? You are an idiot sometimes, Dean. _He squeezes Dean's ankle a little

"No, it is not an anxiety attack," Dr. Larson said. "No, if it were that you would be on your way by now."

"Then what?" Sam said. _Just tell us, please, just tell us, good or bad knowing is better. I think. God, I hope knowing is better._

"We just need to run a few more tests, you just sit back and relax," he said to Dean, he walked away, humming to himself.

"Yeah, cause that's relaxing," Dean said sourly, looking at Sam.

Sam sat back down by Dean and took his hand again.

_What's wrong with my brother? Why won't they tell us anything? Oh, god, don't let this be serious. He seems like he is in so much pain. Please let him be ok._

_**To Be Continued**_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! Special thanks to Heather03nmg and Agent Five for patient answers to very annoying medical questions. Thanks to Dennis for making sure it was not overly chick flick and huge thanks to beta Abni for everything. All mistakes are still mine._

**Be Still My Beating Heart**

Chapter Four

_A lesson once learned is so hard to forget_

_-Sting_

The emergency room was busy. There was the sound of a man shouting from a room up the hall. It was a place of constant movement. The woman in the next bed had stopped screaming, her voice had been reduced to whimpers. People in scrubs bustled in and out, checking on her, looking at Dean as they walked past.

Dean was watching his brother. Sam had his eyes trained, for the most part, out into the hallway, waiting for someone to come in and tell them what was going on. He sat up suddenly and glanced at Dean. "Something's coming." _Something Sammy? What? A demon? What? _Sam must have felt the tensing of his muscles, he looked over and smiled. "Sorry, I meant someone is coming with a machine, in here."

The machine in question was rolled to a stop at the end of Dean's bed. "We need to get a chest x-ray," the guy who had brought the machine in said. He had Dean lean forward so he could slide a plate behind him and then stepped away from the machine to take the picture. _Nice that he had Sam move away. _He pulled the plate from behind Dean and disappeared without another word. _I wish someone would just tell us what is going on. This is getting old, ok not having a heart attack, but what? My chest is still exploding, I still hurt with two shots of morphine in me and I can hardly breathe. I am hooked up to some mysterious IV and no one says anything. Sam looks freaked. _

His brother looked over at him and squeezed his hand a little. "I'm sure someone will let us know soon, Dean. How are you feeling?" He glanced up at the heart monitor again. "You heart is still beating like crazy." He frowned. "Does it hurt?"

"Yeah, hurts like hell Sammy, and I feel like I have just run about eighty miles without a break, being pursued by all the fiends in hell."

"I think it was that medicine they gave you, it seemed to really go up then," Sam said concern in his voice.

"How fast?"

"You don't really want to know Dean, trust me."

"More than a hundred?" Sam nodded, frowning. "More than one ten?" Sam nodded again. "Ok you're right I don't want to know."

"Good choice," Sam said with a small smile. "Are you thirsty or anything Dean?"

"No, I'm ok, thanks." _Well, not ok, just not thirsty. Freaked out. Not thirsty._

Sam went back to watching the corridor. He would look over at Dean every few minutes, then look back at the hall. _Still here, Sam. Don't worry. _Sam tensed. Dean felt the tension vibrate down his arm and into his hand.

"What?" he said looking over at his brother.

"The idiot vampire is coming back," Sam said standing.

_What does he mean by…_The kid with the needles came around the curtain. _Hell no, no, no. _Dean felt like all his veins suddenly went into hiding. His neck was tightening, a knot of pain driving a nail up over his head and into his face. _This is just getting better and better. _

"We need a little more blood, run one more test," the kid said plopping down on the stool by Dean. The taller guy came around again, too. They put started poking at Dean's elbow again. _What the hell, that didn't work remember?_

"That didn't work last time, do you really think that's a good plan?" Sam said. Dean could hear the simmering anger in his brother's voice. _He might kill them this time._

The needle drove into his arm, jabbing again, withdrawing, jabbing again. Sam was watching them, Dean was trying to focus on not screaming. _But it does take my mind off the other. _They gave up after seven attempts and started poking at his hand, six attempts there and the other hand, Sam moving to the end of the bed to make room for them. The look in his brother's eyes made Dean smile._Hurricane Sammy is coming in a minute. _They gave up and walked to the end of the bed. The tall guy pulled off Dean's sock. _What the hell?_

"We're going to take it out of your foot, you have a good vein here," the kid said, jabbing the needle in before Dean could say anything. _And wow, feet hurt, not a fun place to have a needle shoved in. Not fun at all. _They smiled and left.

"Sammy? You ok?" Dean said looking at his brother.

"Me? Sure," Sam said.

"You look a little pissed."

"A little, Dean, maybe a more than a little," Sam said with a tight smile. He glanced up at the monitor and then sat down again. "I just wish they would come in and tell us something." _Me too, Sam. I am completely freaked out, still not breathing good, chest still hurts, what the hell is going on? _

The time passed, Dean watched the IV bag slowly empty, Sam watched the heart monitor and the hall. No one stopped, no one told them what was happening. _Sam is really starting to look bad, I wish they would talk to us for his sake._

Heather the Nurse sauntered in, pushing the fancy EKG machine. "I'm just going to run one more EKG really quick." She hooked Dean up to the machine and printed something out, smiled and then started unhooking him from everything. Sam looked away when she pulled the IV, Dean smiled a little at that. "Ok, you're all set."

"But what's going on?" Sam said, a desperate tinge to his voice.

"Oh, didn't the doctor come in and talk to you? I'm so sorry," she actually sounded sorry, too. "I'll go get him and bring in your orders and prescriptions." She disappeared out the door.

Dean sat up and tried to muster a smile for his brother. "I don't have shoes," he said.

"I'll bring the car around, that way you don't have far to go, I don't want you walking a long way any way." Sam put a hand out to steady him. "Don't you want to lie down till the doctor gets here?"

"No, I want out as soon as we can," Dean said, shivering. Sam noticed and pulled his jacket off and put it over Dean shoulders.

"Well," the doctor said coming around the curtain. "How are you feeling?"_Uh, how do you think? Let's see, can't breathe, chest hurts, heart's pounding, oh and some freaking idiot put about a million holes in me._

"What's wrong with him?" Sam said, Dean could see Sam bracing himself for the worst news.

"Pleurisy, pneumonia and an asthma attack—a really bad one," the doctor said with a smile.

"I don't have asthma," Dean said.

"You do right now," the doctor said. "I wrote prescriptions for something for the pain, something to help you breathe and an antibiotic."

"So it's nothing serious, see Sam, nothing bad at all," Dean said.

"I didn't say that, you are ill, young man. Strict bed rest for at least a week." He smiled at Heather when she brought a pile of papers in. Dean signed one and she handed the rest to Sam. "If you have any worsening of symptoms at all call your doctor or come back here. Don't risk your life, son," he smiled at them and wandered out.

"I might have misjudged him a little," Sam said, helping Dean up onto his feet. "I'll set you down by the door and go grab the car. Then I'll take you back to our room and run get the drugs."

"I think I will just ride along to the drugstore, ok?" Dean said, trying to shake Sam's hand off his arm. His brother let go of his arm, until Dean nearly fell as a wave of dizziness caught him off guard. Sam caught him before he could fell, but wouldn't let go of his arm after that.

"I think you should go to bed, Dean," Sam said.

"No, let me ride along, I'll be fine in the car, and then we can go back to the motel," Dean said, trying to focus on walking without falling down. _Please, Sam, don't make me beg, I just don't want to be alone right now. I kind of scared myself and I don't want to be alone._

Sam helped him down onto the bench by the door, and then looked at him, he smiled. "Ok, Dean, you can't get out though."

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean leaned back on the bench and watched as Sam walked out the door to get the car. _At least it's not my heart. Maybe we got lucky this time._

**XXX**

It was cold, at least after the warmth of the ER it seemed cold. Sam walked back through the parking lot to the car. He smiled gently, offering a small gesture of sympathy as someone jumped out of their car and started running towards the emergency room. He was slowly becoming aware of relief, creeping slowly out of his brain and letting his heart beat properly, letting his breathing normalize. The anger was still simmering, watching the two guys torturing his brother with the needle had very nearly driven him to violence. _That and the fact no one thought to tell us he wasn't having a heart attack for nearly two hours and then just ignored us again for another hour. If Dean had been in better shape he would have just left himself, I bet. I should have chased the answers harder, but I didn't want to leave him. He looked completely freaked. Still does._

He got into the car, turned it on and let it warm up for a minute. He pushed the heater over to full blast, hoping the car would be a little warm for Dean when he got in. _Pleurisy? I seem to remember it's an inflammation having to do with the lungs. And pneumonia? How did I let him get away with that? I should have said something, things like that can go horribly wrong untreated. But it's not his heart, thank god, maybe we got lucky this time._

Sam pulled the car up at the entrance. He saw Dean push himself to his feet and then drop back down on the bench. _Yeah, Dean, you're sick, get it? _He smiled to himself as he walked to the door. _I'm glad he sort of insisted on riding with me. I don't want to leave him alone, but I'm not sure how to handle that sometimes. _The sliding doors opened and Dean looked up at him a little sheepishly. "Well you didn't go all the way to the floor at least, Dean," Sam said, hauling him to his feet.

"Yep."

Sam kept a hand on him as they walked out the door to the car. _At least he lets me help a little sometimes. I know he'd prefer to not need help. I remember after he was electrocuted he wouldn't really let me help, wouldn't even let me give him a hand out of the damn car. Sometimes it is so hard to watch him—knowing he's thinking he has to do it all for himself . I know he hates feeling helpless, but…not letting me help makes me feel a little helpless, too, you know, Dean. _He settled Dean in, putting an old blanket over him. Dean didn't resist just leaned his head back on the seat. Sam walked around and got in.

"I saw a twenty-four-hour pharmacy up the road from the motel. I'll stop there and get the drugs and anything else you need."

"Hot Heather the Nurse? Think they have her there?" Dean said. Sam noticed how weak his voice sounded. _How did I ignore this for so long? Has he sounded like that all along?_

"I don't think you can get those at a pharmacy," Sam said with a smile.

"Need to figure a way to see her again, dude, hot, all Heathers, I'm telling you," Dean said.

"Maybe you should try a different name for your hunt Dean, give the Heathers a break."

"Nah, still a lot of Heathers to get through—did I ever tell you about that one in Tucumcari? Said she was twenty four, turned out to be forty two and wow, what a night," Dean said with a little cough.

"Maybe you shouldn't talk, Dean. I don't think you should strain your lungs, ok?" Sam said, concerned at the little wheeze that he now heard clearly each time his brother took a breathe. _Not letting anything slip by me again, Dean._

"You just don't want to hear about my Heather conquests."

"Or any others, Dean, but seriously, don't talk, ok? Rest," he said as he pulled into the pharmacy parking lot. "I'll be right back, if you need me call me, ok?"

"Dude? Come on, not six, just leave the window cracked and the radio on. I'll be fine."

Sam smiled and got out, grabbing the list of prescriptions from the hospital and walked into the brightly lit store. He dropped the prescriptions off, chatted with the pharmacist on duty for a minute and wandered around the store, grabbing the extra items the pharmacist suggested. He also picked up some orange juice, the new Spenser novel for himself, and stopping by the magazines picked up the "American Muscle Cars—All Impala Edition" for Dean. They finally called Dean's name and Sam went and paid for everything, listening carefully to the instructions for the narcotics, anti-inflammatory, antibiotic and inhaler.

"I'm back," he said, dropping into the car.

"Good thing it's you, if you were here to steal her, I'd just have to ride along," Dean said without opening his eyes.

Sam laughed and headed back to the motel. The parking place right in front of their door was empty. _Maybe our luck is holding. _He pulled in and helped Dean into the room, settling him gently on the bed. He pulled the covers back and Dean laid down with a sigh. Sam grabbed an extra pillow and tucked it behind his brother's head. "You need to take your drugs before you go to sleep Dean," he said pouring him orange juice.

"K, Sammy," Dean said drowsily. He took the pills without protest. Sam pulled the blankets up, making sure Dean was well covered before taking the empty glass back to the kitchen. _I wonder how I can manage to sit with him? _"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"You can see the TV better from this bed, it's ok to sit here, if you want, the TV won't bother me," he said quietly.

"Sure, thanks." _That was easier than I thought it would be. _Sam grabbed a piece of cold pizza and a coke and settled down on the bed. He sat close enough so his shoulder was resting against Dean a little. He carefully pulled the covers under Dean's chin.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said sleepily.

Sam sat listening until Dean's wheezing breath eased off into sleep. He sighed and flipped the stations on the TV. _There has to be something to watch doesn't there? Hey, Red Dwarf, and season two, too bad Dean's not awake, he loves season two. How many times has he seen Queeg anyway? Right up there with Spinal Tap, I think. _He leaned back on the headboard a little, keeping an eye on Dean and watching the TV. _Hey, a marathon, alright. I wonder if they'll show season three, too? _

Dean started coughing, Sam frowned. _That doesn't sound good. _Dean kept coughing, Sam gently picked him up and held him propped against his shoulder. "Thanks, Sam," Dean said between coughs, he coughed a little more and then dropped back off to sleep. Sam pulled the covers over his brother's shoulder and settled back to watch the rest of the marathon, careful not to disturb his sleeping brother.

**XXX**

The sun was pouring through the windows, shining brightly against his eyelids, the TV was on, someone was moving around in the room. He thought he smelled coffee. _Coffee would be good. _He lay still for a minute longer as awareness fully crept in. _God, I feel awful. What's wrong? Oh yeah, right, ride in an ambulance and fun times. Sam said something last night about painkillers? My chest is killing me. _He opened his eyes. "Sam?"

"Hey, Dean, how do you feel?" Sam said from the kitchenette.

"Like owls nested in my mouth," he said forcing himself up. "Do I smell coffee?"

"No, sorry, but no coffee. You aren't supposed to have it, the doctor's orders said no caffeine," Sam said filling a cup with water from the coffee pot and stirring something in.

_Oh, this is going to be just freaking great. _"I smell coffee," he said stubbornly.

"It's the pot, I used it to make hot water," his brother said bringing him a cup. "After you drink that I'll make toast and then you can take your antibiotics. It says take with food." Sam also handed him a pill. "Thought you might need that."

"Thanks," Dean said swallowing the pain pill. He sniffed the liquid in the cup. "What the hell is this, Sammy?"

"Chai tea."

"What?"

"Chai tea—tea with spices and milk."

"You're not only giving me tea, but a tea latte? A tea latte? Dude, come on."

"Drink it, the warmth will help. I'm going to run to the office and let them know that we'll be here for a week or so. I didn't want to go until you were awake, I'll be right back, ok?"

"Not six, Sammy," Dean said, trying to sound sulky, it didn't work well, he was running out of breath. His brother grinned at him and left. Dean sipped at the tea. _Ok, not bad, tastes kind of like pumpkin pie in a cup. So not telling Sam._ The warm liquid did seem to make his chest feel a little better. _I wonder how he knows I don't really want to be alone right now? Nice that he sat with me last night. God, I hope I didn't do something embarrassing like fall asleep on his shoulder._

Sam came back in a minute later, a wide smile on his face. "All taken care of," he said still grinning.

"What?"

"Oh, the manager gave me her grandmother's sovereign remedy for pleurisy, said it used to be common and 'Granny Means' always took care of it," Sam was shaking his head.

"What? I have a bad feeling about this Sam, what?"

"Oh nothing bad, Dean, nothing at all, all natural remedy." Still grinning.

"Sam, I'm sick, weak, feverish, do you want to make it worse by teasing me?" he said in his best whining tone.

"Of course not, never," Sam said grinning.

_Having fun at the sick guy's expense, Sammy?_ "Well?"

Sam's grin got even wider. "Well you start with a mustard plaster."

"Doesn't sound too bad so far," Dean said warily.

"Nope, then you get a chicken," Sam paused for dramatic effect. "A live chicken and split it open and put it on the patient's chest."

"You do what? You're kidding? So the cure is so unbelievably gross you have to get better?"

"Probably," Sam said laughing. "You ever let something like this get out of hand again Dean and it's chickens for you."

"Fine," he said taking the toast and pills Sam handed him. "Can I get out of bed long enough to take a shower?"

"Sure, just be careful, ok?" Sam said watching him pull himself out of bed.

"Sam? I've been taking showers for my whole life? I think I can manage it." He thought he had pulled it off until he swayed and nearly fell, Sam grabbing his arm before he ended up face down on the carpet. _That was smooth. _Sam helped him to the bathroom door.

"I put some soap in the shower for you, use it, the pharmacist said it would help," Sam said, waiting till he was sure Dean was steady before he let go.

Dean looked suspiciously in the shower. "Baby vapor bath? Dude, come on tea lattes and baby vapor bath?"

"It'll help, grow up, Dean. I'll be right here if you need me."

"Sam, I'm fine." He closed the door and smiled, his brother had already laid out clean clothes on the counter for him. _Ok, Sammy, I get it, you're worried. _He tuned on the shower and let the bathroom fill with steam. Opening the baby wash he had to admit it smelled comforting. _Like when we were kids and dad always doused us with Vicks and put us to bed. Still feel safe when I smell the stuff. _He finally turned the water off and got out of the shower. He had been doing fine until he was dressed and bent down to pick up his towel. One second he had he towel in his hand, the next he was on the bed, a very anxious Sam sitting on the edge of the bed patting his hand.

"Learn that in a movie?" Dean said snatching his hand away.

"Always works for fainting women," Sam said smiling, Dean could see relief in his eyes.

"Sorry, won't do that again," he said smiling. _How can just a shower exhaust me like that? _He closed his eyes. He knew that Sam stayed sitting beside him a long time after he went to sleep.

The TV was still on when he woke up. Sam was sitting at the table, laptop open, eyes glued to the screen. Dean watched him for a minute. _He looks like he hasn't slept. Wow, my head is killing me, and my chest hurts. I know it is only two doses of antibiotics, but shouldn't I be feeling a little better? God, I'm freezing. I actually think I feel worse._ "Hey."

"Dean?" Sam frowned, he came over to the bed and put his hand on Dean's forehead. "Dude, you're burning up. Good thing I got this last night." He shoved a thermometer under his tongue. It beeped, he looked at it and frowned. "Kind of high, 103.5." _You look a little worried Sam, and I know that's more than a little high. I'm a little worried. I still hurt too, Sam and it's hard to breathe. I think I might be getting worse. Should I mention that right now? I'll wait, I'm just overreacting. I need to give the meds time to work._

Sam brought him some aspirin and a glass of juice and settled in on the bed beside him to watch TV. _Thanks, Sammy, suddenly not feeling very good, nice to have you there. _He leaned into the pillows a little more. His chest seemed to be hurting more and more the longer he laid there, and it was getting harder to breathe again. Sam looked over with a frown on his face. _Sorry Sammy, something feels a little weird all of a sudden. _

Sam reached over him and grabbed the inhaler from beside the bed. "It's ok, Dean. I think you're having a bit of an asthma attack." He handed Dean the inhaler. "I had a friend at Stanford who had it."

Dean nodded and took the dose and leaned back again. "Thanks. Can I uh…could you make me…"

"You want more chai, Dean?" Sam said, smiling and getting off the bed. He mixed it up and brought it over. "Not as bad as you thought?"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said, smiling. _Well, nice, my heart is pounding and my chest still hurts and I feel bad. Really, really bad. _He watched The Simpsons with Sam but he was having a hard time concentrating. He felt Sam's cool hand on his head. "I'm ok," he pushed it away.

"You feel hot," Sam shoved the thermometer back under his tongue. "It hasn't gone down at all, I wonder if you need to go back to the hospital."

"No, I'm fine, give me more aspirin," Dean said, fighting the urge to cough.

"Dean, I'm not sure," his brother was frowning at him.

"Dude, I'm fine, just give me some aspirin and I am going back to sleep."

"Ok, but you need to take your antibiotics, too."

Dean grumbled, but did what he was told. _I feel awful and it's kind of nice to have him fussing a little. Makes it a little better. I wonder if I should tell him I am really dizzy? No, I don't want to worry him, last night was not fun for him either._He sighed and tried to get comfortable. He drifted off to sleep to the sounds of Jeopardy.

He was pulled from his sleep when he started coughing. He looked over, Sam was sound asleep on top the bedspread next to him. He snagged the thermometer and slid out from under the covers and into the freezing room to get to the bathroom so he wouldn't wake Sam. _I just need a drink of water to stop this coughing. _He closed the door and took a little sip of water. He put the thermometer in his mouth and waited till it beeped. The sound was the double beep for over 99.5, he looked at it. _Ok, I know 104 is bad. I should wake Sam, but maybe an aspirin will make it go away. _He started coughing in earnest._And a nice gurgle-y wet cough. That doesn't sound good, and it really hurts. Not good. I can't breathe very well. Sam? Not doing very good. _He covered his mouth with a towel, letting it catch whatever was ripping out of his lungs, hoping to keep the noise from waking Sam. _God, it's cold. Well, no it's not I'm just really hot. I wish I could stop coughing, my chest is killing me. It's really getting hard to breathe again and my heart is pounding. What if they were wrong? What is there is something wrong with my heart? Sam? I think I might be in trouble._

He pulled the towel away from his face for a minute. "Sam?" _Want to try for louder this time? _"Sam?" _That isn't loud enough to hear in here, let alone through the door. _He tried to push himself up and dropped back down to the toilet. _Sam?_

The door was wrenched open, "Dean what is it?"

"I feel bad," he said, pulling the towel back in front of his mouth, still coughing. _Crossing the beams bad, maybe._

"Dean," Sam said. He glanced over at his brother, Sam had the thermometer in his hand. _Did I forget to turn that off? I didn't hear it beep to turn itself off either._

"What?" He pulled the towel away from his face.

"Oh my god, Dean," Sam said, his face white. Dean followed his brother's eyes down to the towel. _Oh, blood, not good. Never good._

"I think I need to lie back down," he said forcing himself to his feet and walking out of the bathroom, trying to calm his breathing, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest. _Sam? Not feeling good. _Black spots suddenly swam in front of his eyes, he started coughing again, fighting for every breath, his knees gave way and he started to fall. Sam caught him, propping him up against his shoulder.

"Dean?"

"Sam, I don't feel good." It was now a fight for every breath, the little air causing a burning sensation in his chest. He grabbed for his brother's hand. "Sammy?" He said, he could hear the panic in his voice. He tried to breathe, leaning against Sam, clutching his brother's hand. _Sam? Not feeling good, Sam. Not feeling good at all. _The black spots were demanding his attention, he closed his eyes.

He heard Sam talking to someone. "Dizziness, he almost fainted just now, he's coughing up blood, his temp is 104.3, he seems to be having trouble breathing. Should I take him…?" Sam paused. "What! Really?" Sam sounded panicked. "Yeah, room 27, Viking Arms Motel." He hung up the phone. "Ambulance is on the way, Dean."

"No, I just need to go back to bed."

"No, Dean, this is bad, crossing the beams bad, and you are going back. End of statement."

Dean tried to relax, still holding on to his brother's hand. _Actually I think going back might be a good idea Sammy._

_This is bad._

_**To Be Continued**_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! Sorry about the slow updates, still having all kinds of medical fun! Thank you to heather03nmg and Agent Five for continuing patient answers to annoying and persistent medical questions. And, yes everyone, the Boohbahs are frighteningly real._

**Be Still My Beating Heart**

**Chapter Five**

_And I wriggle like a fish caught on dry land_

_-Sting_

It was cold in the room, Dean was shivering, struggling to breathe, trying to stay with his brother. He had his eyes closed, the light seemed to be very bright, burning into his head like nails driven in through the eye sockets. He could hear Sam's voice, it seemed to be coming from a distance, telling him it was ok, help was on the way, over and over again. He leaned a little harder against his brother, letting his head rest against Sam's shoulder, holding on to his brother's hand. _I wonder if this will make Sam think it's serious? _He thought he could hear sirens in the distance. _How long it will take for them to get here? _ _Maybe they should hurry, this is sort of bad. _

"Sam?" he said.

"I'm here Dean, don't talk. Ok?" Sam said, Dean could hear the panic in his brother's voice.

"I know you're there, jeez Sammy, I'm not dead," he said. He felt Sam tense and immediately regretted his words. "Sorry."

"It's ok, Dean, I know you didn't mean it like that," Sam said. There was a banging on the door. "Come in!" Sam shouted.

"Hey, Dean, right?" a sort of familiar voice said. "Remember me? Eric? From last night?"

Dean nodded without opening his eyes, struggling to breathe, fighting the pain in his chest. He felt himself lifted away from Sam and guided down on the stretcher. "Sam?" he said, reaching his hand out for his brother. Sam's hand closed over his again. Then he was moving, rolled out of the room. Eric was talking to Sam, maybe to him, but the words were not making all that much sense. His reality was full of pain, of attempts to draw a breath, of bone shaking chills. Sam's hand dropped away, a moment later the stretcher clacked into place in the back of the ambulance.

"Do you want to follow in the car?" Dean heard Eric ask his brother.

"Sam?" Dean said, his voice sounded muffled. _Oxygen mask? When did that happen?_

"No, Dean, sorry, I'm coming with you this time," Sam said from beside him.

Dean opened his eyes a little. _That's what I was going to say, Sam. I would rather have you here this time. _"Thanks." He closed his eyes again. _Why is it so bright in here?_

"You'll feel a little pinch, ok?" Eric said. "How's the pain?"

"Eight, maybe nine," Dean said, trying to concentrate enough to answer. _Sam? _

"Is there another hospital in town?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Is it possible to go there instead?"

"Sure."

_Sam? Is that a good idea? Well maybe it is, you won't be tempted to kill that kid if you see him again. _He felt Sam's hand on his ankle.

"It's ok, Dean," his brother said. "Hey did you notice that hook in the ceiling?"

_The demonic summoning rune? Yeah, noticed Sam. Made me worry for a minute or two last time. _Dean nodded. Sam laughed, or at least it sounded like he tried to laugh, it wasn't really convincing. _I feel weird, Sam. Did they give me something? Did he say something? _He was slipping away from awareness a little. He could still hear Sam's voice, talking to him, talking to Eric. He was drifting on the pain, trying to breathe, trying to stay focused. None of it was working very well. There were flashes of awareness moving through the pain, the dizziness plaguing him—the ambulance lurching, pausing in traffic and then rumbling on; the small ache in his arm, maybe an IV; Eric laughing at something. But none of it stayed with him, it was all fleeting. Sam's hand on his leg was the one constant.

Something jarred the bed, he was suddenly much colder, then warmer and the light against his eyelids got brighter. He was moving, or the bed was, then it bumped to a stop. He sensed movement around him, he heard voices in a dozen conversations. Someone said something about blood, he thought he felt something, but he wasn't sure. Someone else was shouting unintelligible words. Dean forced his eyes open. _Hey, emergency room. Am I in the hall? What the hell? _He rolled his eyes to his right, there was a large letter "D" on the wall. Dean turned his head to the left, Sam was standing at the counter across from him signing papers or something.

"Sam?" his voice was still muffled by the oxygen mask and it was hard to get enough air to force sound out anyway.

His brother looked over at him and smiled. The smile was full of panic, Sam was trying to stay calm. "Dean, hey, nice to see you back."

"Did I go somewhere?" Dean asked, confused. _Didn't we just get here?_

Sam came over and stood by the bed. "No, I meant it's nice to see you a little focused."

"Am I in a hallway?"

"Yeah, sorry, I just thought a different hospital…" he trailed off, looking unsure.

"Good idea," Dean coughed, feeling like bits of his lungs were being torn away. Sam put a hand under his back and gently lifted him up, then moved the back of the bed up to hold him erect. "Thanks. Sit down, Sam, you're making me nervous with the hovering." Sam smiled at him and looked around for a chair. He had his "lost puppy" look in his eyes, it worried Dean a little. He patted the bed. "Sit."

Sam settled on the bed, making sure he was in physical contact with Dean. "All kinds of excitement in here. There was a guy earlier yelling at the nurses. I couldn't understand a word he was saying, but he was pissed. Security hauled him off. And some medics brought a woman in who looked like she took a bath in blood. There's a guy over there in complete isolation. And I'm trying to figure out what is going on over here. They've cut this guy's shoe off, all except for the toe."

_He's talking because he's worried. Like when he was a kid. _"Nice that there's entertainment for you." He watched as a nurse walked up the hall towards them. She stopped by the bed.

"I'm Caroline," she said. "How are you doing? How is your pain?"

"Still an eight and a half or nine," Dean said, trying to stop the hacking cough he could feel starting. "I feel like there is a tight band with spikes in it around my chest." Sam looked over at him. _Sorry, Sam, shouldn't have said that in front of you. _

"Ok, I'll talk to the doctor and we'll see what we can do," she walked away. Dean looked at his brother with a smirk. _And hey, Sam? All Carolines might be hot. Do you think I should look into that more? He can't see it through the oxygen mask, but I bet he gets my drift._

"Don't even say it Dean, just don't," Sam said with a roll of his eyes. _Ah, come on, Sammy. Maybe all Carolines like all Heathers are hot. I should check that when I get out of here, don't you think? _Sam had been watching him. "Shut up, Dean."

Dean let his eyes close again. _The lights are giving me a headache. _He was listening to the sounds around him. _This dizziness is just so fun, I don't know what's better, the whole bed-is-spinning thing or the chest-exploding thing or the my-heart-is-killing-me thing. All fun._The pain was beginning to spike up again. It felt like the band on his chest had been tightened one full notch, then a large stake driven right through the middle. He tried to stifle the moan. It didn't work. Sam's hand was suddenly resting on his chest. The contact let him focus away from the pain a little bit. _Thanks, Sam. _

"Nurse is coming back, Dean," he said softy.

"This should help," she said. Dean opened his eyes in time to see her hook a syringe up to the IV in his arm. He tasted the odd medicinal taste of the saline, she unhooked that one and hooked up another. Whatever was in that one stung a little going in, she flushed it with more saline. "How's that?"

Dean was already feeling the effects, the dizziness had changed in character, and the pain had diminished a tiny bit. He nodded, trying to keep the sudden nausea down.

"Just breathe, it'll help with the nausea, ok?" she said, smiling at him.

_Yeah, well if you haven't noticed breathing is kind of an issue right now. _He closed his eyes again. The chills were getting worse, too, his whole body was trembling. He was trying to focus on not vomiting, on breathing, on trying not to scream. He thought he heard Sam talking to someone, a male voice, it seemed.

Dean started coughing again, the oxygen mask was pulled away from his mouth. When he finished he was exhausted, he lay back in the bed as they put the mask back over his face. The pain was almost unbearable again, it was getting harder to breathe as the pain got worse, his heart was slamming against his ribcage, each beat excruciating, the odd fluttery feeling from the night before very present again. They asked him about his pain again, all he could do was nod. _I hope I answered the question right. _An eternity later he got his answer as the funny dizzy feeling abruptly increased. He sighed, trying to draw a deep breath to breathe through the rising nausea. It passed more quickly that time.

"Hey, something's happening with the shoe guy," his brother's voice found him, pulling him back to awareness a little bit.

"What?" Dean said without opening his eyes.

"I'm not sure. The nurse is in there, and another doctor, they are looking at the guy's toe. I can't tell what's going on. Wow, they just shoved a needle in his toe."

"Guessed that from the scream," Dean managed to say.

Sam laughed a little. "Yeah. Ok, I can see now. Gross. He's got a nail right through the shoe and into the toe. They're trying to pull it out with forceps."

Sam's comment was punctuated with another scream. "Sounds fun," Dean said. _And thanks for trying to distract me, Sam, it's helping. This really sucks, I'm glad it's distracting you too._

"That didn't work, they're on the phone now. The poor guy has his coat over his head," Sam was quiet for a moment. "A janitor just got here with a tool box. Oh, dude, they have the pliers out. They won't, oh they are, they are going to pull it out with the…" And a terrible scream of pain ripped through the emergency room. Dean heard all the motion around him stop for a moment. He opened his eyes a little, his brother looked pale. Sam looked over at Dean and smiled. "That had to suck."

"Yeah," Dean said. He was starting to lose his focus again, the little distraction was just that, small. The other reality full of pain and the inability to breathe was looming large again.

"Dean? It's going to be ok," Sam said softly, putting his hand over Dean's.

_Not sure about that Sam, I'm starting to get a bad feeling about all of this. _He was trying to fight the urge to cough. It wasn't working. He started coughing again, his awareness focused only on the pain, the heaving of his chest as he tried to draw a breath. He heard a commotion around him. Sam calling for help. The coughing eased off, he lay back, exhausted, gasping for air. Sam was talking to someone.

"Sam?" he managed to gasp out.

Sam put his hand down on Dean's chest. "They're going to take you upstairs and get you settled in, Dean, I guess you need to stay tonight," Sam said, his voice was calm. Dean could hear fear, panic in the soft tones. Dean nodded.

A few minutes later the bed was rolling, moving past sounds, someone crying, a quiet conversation. The loud bang as automatic doors opened, the smooth motion of an elevator. Dean was aware of Sam walking beside him as they moved through the hospital. He was aware of his brother as the bed stopped and he was shifted across and settled in another bed. Sam stayed beside him as the exhaustion and pain meds finally pulled him away into sleep, a silent, empty place, filled only with the vague sensation of pain.

**XXX**

The TV was on, the light flickering in the otherwise dark room. The sounds no longer making sense, they had become a backdrop of irritating noise, grating on his nerves, but the alternative, a silent, dark room was so much worse. Sam left the TV on. He sighed, staring at the ceiling. The hospital staff had finally made him leave two hours after visiting hours had been officially over, Sam wanted to stay, they made him leave. _Well at least that way I can take the car back tomorrow. I just hated leaving him alone like that. I know he was asleep, but, it was hard to leave. It's still five hours till I can go back. He looked terrible. I want to call, but I don't want to wake him. He needs to sleep. I hate visiting hours, I need to be with him, when we're together things are easier to handle, at least for me, but for him too, I think. It's so hard not knowing what's happening. Dean? Please be ok, and I mean it, if not, it's chickens for you. Hear me?_

His phone, sitting on the bed stand beside him, started ringing. He frowned at it, picking it up and looked at the number, not recognizing it. "Hello?" Silence on the other end. "Dean? Dean are you ok?" More silence, a rasping breath, maybe a tiny affirmative sound. "Don't talk, you don't want to start coughing again. You should be sleeping, you know. Can't get better if you don't rest, man." The silence continued for a long moment. "Red Dwarf is on channel nine, they are repeating season two. Again. I saw it last night. Queeg is up next. They are doing a pledge drive, I think they are running it again tomorrow, too." Sam heard the TV come on in the background. "I'll be there as soon as I can, get some sleep, ok?"

"Thanks," the word was more a gasp than an actual word and the connection was broken with a small click.

Sam sighed and pushed himself off the bed, pacing restlessly around the room. Finally not able to stand being cooped up in the room anymore he grabbed his phone and wandered out the door. There was a small park down the block from the motel, Sam walked along the path that paralleled the road. _How did I let him get away with that? He had to have been sick for a long time for it to get out of control like this, how did I let that happen? I know he's been a little cranky lately, but, I didn't think it was masking something this serious. Be honest with yourself, you weren't even looking for something like this. Demons, spirits, evil, I look for that, injuries he hasn't thought to mention, watch for that. Something like this? I just didn't notice. How could I not notice? _

_Damn it, Dean, how could you let it get like that? _He slammed his hand into a large tree, the pain radiating up his arm, and into his head. _That was smart. _He leaned against the tree, the cold of the trunk seeping through his jacket. _He'll get better now, I know. But this is a close call even for us. This all just feels so out of control, that first trip to the ER, the not knowing what was wrong. Then last night, knowing what was wrong but unable to help. And what they told me, how bad it could be…_

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory of Dean collapsing, the ambulance ride with Dean nearly delirious with fever and pain, not making sense when he spoke. Then the wait in the emergency room. Dean barely conscious at times, aware at others, the final coughing spell before they took Dean upstairs, the blood splattered…_He'll be ok, now, though. We got lucky this time. All of this just has me on edge. He is going to be fine, nothing bad is going to happen. This feeling…No, it will be ok and he'll get out of there soon._

Sam turned and walked back towards the room. The walk had chilled him, the cold of the night air making his lungs hurt a tiny bit. He stopped before he got all the way back to the room, instead he fished his keys out of his pocket and opened the door of the Impala, dropping down onto the driver's seat and leaning back with a sigh. Comforted a little by the familiar smell of the car he was able to drop off to sleep.

_Dean was fighting to breathe, lying in a pool of blood, his heart beating so hard Sam could see hammering against his chest. "It's his heart," he said, pleading. "No, Dean, hang on, you can't die, not like this." Sam felt restrained, unable to reach Dean, he's dying. No, someone stop it. _

He was pulled from the nightmare by his phone. He grabbed the phone, answering it without checking the number, still caught in the bonds of the nightmare, his heart hammering as he answered. "Hello?" A small sound that might have been "hey." Sam let out the breath he had been holding. "Hey, Dean," he said. Sam could hear the TV still on in the background. "How are you feeling?" he asked before he thought about it.

"Ok," came the muffled response. _You don't sound ok, Dean. Not at all._

"Sorry, don't talk," he glanced down at his watch. "Visiting hours start in about an hour, I'm going to grab a shower and some coffee, and I will be there as soon as they let me up. Try and get a little more sleep, ok?"

"K, Sammy."

One hour and five minutes later the elevator doors opened on Dean's floor. Sam could smell breakfast wafting down the hall, coffee, bacon, toasted bread. The scents were odd, over-lapping the medicinal smell of the hospital. _All hospitals, they all smell that way, every single one. Sometimes I think it is actually some kind of secret hospital air freshener. Lunchtime always smells like spaghetti and dinner has a fried meat smell. Every hospital in every state. _He stopped._Have I been in a hospital in every state? God, I hope not. _

He stopped by the nurses' station and smiled at the pretty blonde. "Hi, my brother Dean, room 427, how is he?"

She looked at her computer screen then glanced at something else. "Room 427? Oh."

_That doesn't sound good at all. _"What is it?" _Is there a problem? _The nightmare flashed in front of his eyes.

"He's stable, I know the doctor will talk to you about it later," she said with a smile.

_Stable? Is that good "he's getting better" stable or bad "things are not good, but he is not critical yet" stable? Well? Dean?_ "Thanks," he said, turning, trying to keep from running to Dean's room. The TV was still on, a colorful children's show playing on PBS. Dean looked over and raised his eyebrows. Sam sat down beside the bed and put his hand on Dean's arm. It was hot, fevered, Dean's eyes were a little glassy. "Hey, Dean."

"The Boohbahs are terrifying, dude, I think they're demons," Dean said, his voice weak, waiting for the exhale to speak.

"Boohbahs?" Sam said, looking up at the TV. He watched for a minute, frowning.

Dean laughed, it turned into a shallow cough, "See, I told you. I thought it was the fever and pain meds at first, but the nurse assured me that it was a real show. This is the second one this morning." His voice got weaker and weaker as he spoke, Sam could see him wincing in pain.

"Maybe you shouldn't be talking." _He still looks terrible, he sounds terrible. Shouldn't he be getting a little bit better by now?_ "And maybe you shouldn't be watching a show you think is a hallucination, you know."

"Nah, makes it fun."

"Whatever," Sam said, smiling wanly. "They talk to you yet?"

Dean shook his head, reaching for the box of juice, his hand trembling. Sam grabbed it and gave it to Dean. His brother pulled the oxygen mask down and took a sip. "Thanks, throat is dry." He pushed the mask back up and leaned back in the bed. To Sam it seemed that that small act had exhausted Dean. His brother smiled at him. "Sleepy, Sammy, do you mind?"

"Get some rest Dean," Sam said leaning back in the chair and grabbing the remote. _Not in the mood for psychedelic children's programming. _He flipped around until he found a documentary on the history of the devil. About twenty minutes later he dosed off as well.

_Dean was struggling to breathe, every breath a terrible effort, full of pain, gasping like a fish out of water. There was blood on his chest. "He's dying!" Sam heard himself shouting. "His heart!" The respirator was hissing quietly. He's dying, no. Please. "He's not responding." The doctor looked grave. "This is for the best, it will let his lungs rest, let him heal." No, he'll die. Something is wrong. Dean? The single tone of the monitor echoed in the room. No, DEAN!_

Sam jerked awake, his brother's name still screaming in his head. He looked over, Dean was still sleeping, his face red, fevered, his breathing getting more and more labored. _Was that a dream? It felt different. _He took a deep breath, trying to calm the panic writhing in his chest. _It was just dream, relax. _He shifted in the chair, stretching his stiff neck. He smiled at the nurse as she came in to check Dean's vitals. His brother woke up and growled at her a little. Sam laughed.

"I'm going to go get more coffee, ok?" he said to Dean. His brother just nodded, Sam frowned and headed out the door. _He doesn't look good, shouldn't he be getting better? I have this terrible feeling, almost of impending doom. It feels almost like I know he is going to die, that it's a matter of time, and not that long. How can that be? It's just that damn dream, it's haunting me. I'm just tired and overreacting. _He wandered through the hallways until he found the espresso stand. The barista smiled when he answered the trivia of the day without even thinking about it and gave him two extra shots for free. He gratefully accepted them. _Although that puts me well over my caffeine quota for the next couple of days. Why is that dream still bothering me? It's just a dream. I probably need more sleep. He's going to be fine. He's been on IV antibiotics for almost twenty four hours now. And that's good, except his breathing is not getting better, and I think he's getting weaker._

"Mr. Dickenson?" A doctor stopped him outside of Dean's room. "I'm Dr. Going."

"My name is Sam," he said, trying to calm the panic that was suddenly rising in his chest. "What is it?"

"You brother is not responding to the antibiotics as well as we hoped," Dr. Going said, looking grave. "We want to get him on a respirator."

"What?"

"It's for the best, it will take a huge drain off of his body."

"Is he…?" _Is he going to die?_

"This is fairly routine, Sam. It will let his body heal," the doctor looked at him.

_No, it's like the dream. No. Dean will die. I know it, I'm not sure how, but I know he will. What do I do? _"When?" _When it becomes desperate? After he is unconscious? So as long as I can keep him conscious he will be ok? That's it isn't it? Right?_

"Right now it is just a matter of time before we have to do this anyway, but the sooner we can take the stress off his body, the better."

"Now? You need to do this now?" Sam could hear panic in his voice, a desperate tinge of emotion. _Can't we wait? I just have this feeling…in my dream he…How can I explain this without sounding insane? I had a dream and if this happens I know he'll die, can't we wait?_

"He asked that we wait till you got back," the doctor said with a gentle. "The sooner, the better, though."

Sam walked into Dean's room in a daze. The doctor followed him, there was a nurse already present, standing by Dean's bed. His brother's eyes were full of fear. "Hey," Sam said, he went to reach for Dean's hand and noticed he was holding a coffee cup. _Oh, yeah, went to get coffee._He put the cup down and picked up his brother's hand. _Dean, what do I say? I have a bad feeling about this. Like this is goodbye._

The nurse took the oxygen mask off of Dean. "Sammy," he said, tightening his grip on Sam's hand.

"It'll be ok, this is just so you can heal. I'll be right here, Dean, ok?" He looked at his brother, trying to keep his breathing even. _I wonder if Dean can sense how hard my heart is beating? Why do I feel like this? People have this done all the time and they are ok, that is why they do it, so people can get better. But he's not getting better._

"Sure, Sammy," Dean whispered, the words an effort. The nurse moved to Dean, Sam saw a syringe in her hand. Dean's eyes slowly closed, his grip relaxed.

_Oh god, Dean, please don't let this be goodbye._

**XXX**

_The Blue Boohbah had a pillow in its paws, pressing it over his face. He tried to push it away, he was struggling to breathe through the pillow, fighting for every breath. The yellow Boohbah had a tube in its paws. His chest hurt, his heart was lying beside him beating wildly. Something grabbed his arm in a vise-like grip, slowly tightening to the point of pain._

Dean opened his eyes, the nurse was taking his blood pressure. _Nice, they want you to sleep, then torture you every hour or so, just to see if you're awake I think. And never watching Boohbahs again. Never. _He growled at the nurse, he heard his brother laugh. He looked over at Sam and smiled. _Not that he can see through this stupid mask. _

Sam smiled. "I'm going to go get more coffee, ok?" Dean nodded and watched Sam walk out of the room.

"The doctor will be in to talk to you in a minute," she said with a little frown.

_What does that look mean? God, I hurt. Shouldn't I be getting a little better by now? I'm beginning to think I jinxed myself with that "I might have gotten lucky this time" thought. I wish I could breathe, it is getting harder and harder to breathe and it hurts more too. I can't shake this bad feeling. A crossing the beams bad thing. End of the universe bad thing. I'm just overreacting, I think, because I am in pain and I have a fever. But I feel like... But they're pumping me full of antibiotics, so I am just overreacting. _

"Mr. Dickenson? I'm Dr. Going," a doctor walked over to the bed.

"What?" Dean said, something about the doctor's face said "bad."

"You are not responding to treatment as well as we hoped, and your breathing is a concern. We would like to put you on a respirator. Actually it is just a matter of time, we think, but the sooner the better for you."

_No, no, _"When?" Dean asked, hoping to put it off, knowing the truth of his condition.

"Now?" the doctor said with that calm all doctors seem to have. "We will need to sedate you, for your comfort, but this will help you heal, it's nothing to worry about, we do this a lot."

_Yeah, right, that's why you say stuff like "not responding" right. That's why you went out of your way to tell me not to worry, right? _"Wait till my brother gets back." _I need to say goodbye. Just in case. I need to say goodbye._

"Ok," the doctor walked out. A nurse came in and started doing nurse stuff, Dean watched her absently.

Sam walked in a couple of minutes later. He look liked someone had punched him. "Hey," his brother said. Sam walked to the bed and reached for his hand, then stopped and looked at the coffee cup he was holding with a look of almost comic surprise. Sam put it down and took Dean's hand in his.

The nurse pulled the oxygen mask off. "Sammy," he said, tightening his grip on Sam's hand. _Sam, I'm sorry, I never thought it would be something like this, demons, spirits, vampires, those I worried about, never something like this. Teach me, eh Sammy?_

"It'll be ok, this is just so you can heal. I'll be right here, Dean, ok?" Sam said, holding his hand so tight it hurt. _You know, don't you Sam? You know, somehow you know. This is goodbye._

"Sure, Sammy," Dean said, forcing the words out, without the mask on it was almost impossible to breathe. He was struggling, black spots already coalescing in front of his eyes even before he felt the sting in his arm and a medicinal taste in his mouth. The world started to fade, he tried to hold on to his brother's hand, it was all slipping away, silence, darkness reaching for him with clawed hands and pulling him away. His hand was relaxing. Sam seemed to tighten his grip as Dean relaxed. Even that touch was fading away. It was the last thing, there long after all else was gone, but it was fading.

_Oh god, Sammy, please don't let this be goodbye._

_**To Be Continued**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Be Still My Beating Heart**

**Chapter Six**

Restore my broken dreams  
You must learn to stand your ground  
Never to be wrong  
-Sting

It was noisy—irritating, overwhelming shattered nerves. The room was full of sound, bouncing around the walls in a cacophony of distraction. The TV was on, the characters on the black-and-white sitcom not really making sense, there was a machine beeping, keeping count of his brother's life. The respirator was hissing softly, sustaining his brother. A click sounded every second or two, and from behind him an off-key note, the tone of the IV. There was laughter and chattering talk from down the hall, female voices, nurses at their station passing the time as their shift moved on through the day.

A nurse came into the room like clock-work, every forty-seven minutes. _I wonder how they decide that, the timing. You'd think every hour, but it's not. _They always smiled at Sam and answered his questions in the same calm, compassionate tone, always answering the same way, no matter what the question. Sam was beginning to suspect that if he asked what was for dinner they would answer him the same way—Dean was doing fine, resting comfortably. _Yeah, he's doing fine, except he needs a machine to help him breathe, except they always have that worried frown after checking his vitals, except for the grim look on their faces. Yeah, fine. Fine for a dying man. _

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to take that up and paced around the room, stopping at the windows and looking out at the misty day. The hospital lot was busy, full of people, some in a hurry, some walking slowly towards the building. The crowds were coming and going, valet parking was a never-ending flow of cars. Sam sighed walking back to the chair by the bed and sat down again. He put his hand over Dean's, he had convinced himself that as long he was there, in contact with his brother, talking to him, nothing bad could happen. _Or at least nothing worse. _

He watched the nurse come into the room, fussing around the bed briefly. She smiled at him. "Your brother is doing fine," she said before he could ask.

"How's his fever?" Sam asked.

She paused, looking at him for a minute, then sighed. "It's still high. He's not responding to the antibiotics, yet, or at as well as we hoped."

"Is he getting worse?" _No need to answer I can see it all over your face. He's getting worse and you don't know why. _"Why isn't he responding? Is there something else wrong?"

"We're not sure what's going on," she said. "The doctor will be in later this afternoon to discuss treatment and answer your questions." She smiled at him and turned away, cutting off further conversation as abruptly as closing the door.

Sam sighed, glancing up at the TV, the local news had come on, the anchorwoman smiling as she reported about a six car pile-up on the freeway leaving three people dead. "Nice, what do you think?" Sam said, looking over at Dean. "Those smiles. People die and still they smile. It's like here, Dean, everyone is smiling at me and…" _Oh god, Dean, are you dying? _"They say everything is fine, but you don't look fine to me. I'm thinking of getting a chicken, maybe that'll help." He forced a laugh, "One of the nurses here is a Heather, too. And she's hot. How do you keep finding hot Heathers?" Tears were trickling out of his eyes. "Damn it, Dean. What's wrong?"

Sam leaned back in the chair, letting his eyes close. His brother's hand was warm, unmoving under his, the beeping of the heart monitor was oddly comforting. Sam drifted off to sleep.

_The respirator was hissing, a snake-like sound, sinister, taunting him. Dean was screaming, his voice lost in a vast tube. His heart was lying on his chest, swollen, beating sluggishly. "He's dying, help him!" Sam's voice was swallowed by the hiss. "His heart, it's his heart." Dean's heart was slowing down, each beat taking longer and longer, it was blowing up like a balloon, lying in a puddle of dirty water. "It's not his heart, we checked his heart." Dean was fighting to breathe, fire licking his feet, slowly burning him alive. "Help him, please help him!" The beep of the monitors slowed and then dropped into a single tone._

"No!" Sam's cry pulled him from sleep. He looked over at the bed, panicked. Dean was still there, the regular beep filling the room. Sam's hands were shaking and his heart was pounding against his rib cage. _A dream, it was a dream. But it doesn't feel like a dream, it feels different, but not like a vision either, it feels like…oh my god, it feels like…_He got up and paced around for a minute, letting the thought form in his head. _I'm just imagining things, I'm worried. But that dream feels like…_

"Dean?" he said, sitting back down beside the bed. "I have this funny feeling…I've been dreaming…" Sam stopped for a minute. "I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I dream, Dean and it's not like the visions." He took a deep breath. "I never told you about them, I know. I tried to tell dad, once, sort of, but…" Sam trailed off. "Remember that summer before I went to Stanford? After that hunt you and dad went on?"

Sam paused, looking back at himself, at Dean, that bright summer.

**  
I struggle to avoid any help at hand**

**Past**

It was a hot day, the sun shining down filling the air with the scent of ripening alfalfa, freshly mown grass and an endless variety of flowers. The street was decorated for the Fourth of July, banners and flags in front of every business. People were bustling to and fro getting ready for the festivities that would kick off that evening and run through the weekend. The scent of food wafted down the street from the fair at the end of the road, hamburgers and bacon overlapping something spicy and the heady scent of freshly baking bread.

Sam sighed, relaxed, happy. _Three days without an argument, three days without stress, three days without dad. _He felt a little guilty at the thought but let it slide, his brief reprieve from his father and brother would end in about an hour and he was enjoying the last minutes as fully as possible. Their father had left them, over Dean's vehement protests, to do research while John went out to check on the hauntings they had come to investigate. Their father had been gone for two days when Sam and Dean had discovered something, and Dean had gone to meet their father, leaving Sam behind. Sam had spent many happy hours researching in the small, but surprisingly well-rounded library. He had even found several rare books on demonology hidden in the back. And while he missed his brother, the break from his family was nice, too, no one riding him about anything. _But they'll be back tonight, end of vacation. _

He finally turned and wandered back to the motel. He and Dean shared one room, their father was in the single next door. The set up was becoming more and more common and Sam was pleased with it. The parking spaces in front of their rooms were still empty when he got back. He opened the door, flopped on the bed and turned the TV on. He'd been back for about an hour when he heard the tell-tale rumble of the Impala as Dean pulled up in front of the motel.

"Sammy!" His father shouted in his drill sergeant voice from outside the door. "Front and center."

_End of vacation. _Sam thought, sulking a little as he opened the door. His father was standing by the driver's side of the Impala, one hand on Dean's arm. _What's he doing? Why is he…? Dean must be hurt. _"What's wrong?" Sam said, running to the car.

"Your brother got knocked around a bit, give him a hand into the room, ok?" John said, his voice clipped. Sam heard the annoyance there. Dean had been hurt, enough to worry their father, but not enough to be life-threatening, hence the annoyance.

"I'm fine, dad. I told you that before we went to the clinic," Dean said trying to push himself out of the car, pulling his arm away from Sam as he reached to give Dean a hand. He ground his teeth together, the movement obviously causing him pain.

"Had to make sure nothing was broken—ribs or head," his father said, scolding. "And since we were working for the doc and he offered, I thought it was a good idea. Got you something to take for the pain at least," he snapped out in his clipped, detached tone.

"I'm fine." Dean finally managed to get himself halfway out of the car. Before he could drop back down Sam got a hand under one elbow and eased him up. Dean smiled at him. "Thanks, Sammy, but I'm fine. Nothing broken, really, just a cracked rib or two."

"Sure, Dean," Sam said, following his brother into their room.

Dean lowered himself onto the bed nearest the door, Sam watching his movements. _Ribs might not be broken but they're sore and his head is killing him. Must have taken a pretty good hit. _Dean was keeping his right arm still. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Do I have green spots on my face?"

"No."

"Then stop staring, ok? I'm fine."

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said, grinning at his brother.

"Rest, we're leaving in the morning," John said, standing in the door. "Don't go out tonight, understand? I expect you up and ready, we're leaving at six."

"Yes, sir," Sam and Dean said in unison. John looked at them, took a breath to say something then slammed the door.

Dean was slowly getting off the bed, grimacing as he did. "I need a shower," he said. He walked over to his bag and pulled out sweats and a t-shirt. Sam watched his brother move slowly across the room, stopping and putting a hand against the wall as he swayed. "Don't even try, Sam," he said as Sam moved towards him. Sam stopped and waited as Dean closed the bathroom door.

Sam had been watching TV again when he heard a thump in the bathroom. He was off the bed and had the door open before he even realized what he was doing. Dean was on the floor. "Dean?" Sam bent over him.

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean mumbled, trying to push himself up with his left hand.

"Let me help." Sam gently lifted his brother up and held him steady as Dean swayed on his feet, blinking. Dean pulled away, walked to the bed and sat down on the edge. "At least let me check your ribs, Dean, you fell pretty hard."

"I'm fine, Sam, ok?" Dean laid back and closed his eyes, trying to shut Sam out of the conversation.

"Dean…"

"Sammy?" He threw back in the same tone.

"Fine, whatever," Sam went to the fridge. "You want something?" He took his brother a coke and they sat watching TV until Dean drifted off to sleep. Sam switched the set off and pulled out a book, eventually falling asleep, book on chest.

_Dean was slowly drowning, a pool of blood slowly closing over his head. "Nothing wrong, he's tough," their father's voice echoed over the pool. "Something's wrong, help him." Dean's side was ripped open the blood pouring out, taking his life away. His face was paper white against the dark pool. There was a dark thing sitting on his brother's right side, pushing the blood out. "We're so sorry." The room was bright, Dean pale, small on the bed. "Dean!"_

Sam jerked awake, the book falling onto the bed as he looked over a Dean. His brother was asleep, his face pale in the dark room. Sam slid out of the bed and over to Dean. He put a hand down on Dean's forehead. It was cool, even a little clammy. _But that dream, it felt so real. It was just a dream, Dean's been hurt worse than this many times._ Sam settled back on his bed, but couldn't shake the dream. He tried to sleep again, only to return to the vision of Dean slowly drowning in blood again and again. At two he gave up and pulled himself out of bed, checking on Dean again. His brother's face looked so pale. Steeling himself Sam walked to their father's room and knocked on the door.

"What?" John said, wrenching the door open.

Faced with his father, angry from being pulled from his sleep, Sam was suddenly rethinking his plan of action. "Would you check on Dean, dad? I…uh…I think he might be hurt worse that we thought. He fell in the bathroom after his shower."

"What?" John blinked at him, stalked over to their room, turned the light on and looked at Dean. "I'm sure there's nothing wrong, he's tough."

"I think he looks pale," Sam said, the vision of his brother's face, white against the blood playing in front of his eyes.

John peered at Dean. "He might be a little pale, we'll stop by the clinic in the morning, how's that?"

"I'm fine," Dean said, sounding a little annoyed.

"Sure you are," John said. "But we'll get you checked in the morning." John turned to leave the room. "What?" he said to Sam.

"I had a dream…" _Do you really want to go on with this?_

"You're worried about your brother, I understand that, get some sleep, Sam," his father clapped him on the shoulder and left the room.

Sam sat back on the bed, the feeling of panic still very much with him. _It just feels so real, that's the problem, it feels so real. _He sat on his bed listening to Dean's breathing, it sounded wrong, labored, to him. He stood up and gently checked Dean's pulse, his brother stirred but didn't wake. _That feels too fast. And he's cool, clammy. _ _Something's wrong, I know it, something's wrong. Something serious, something bad. But what can I do? What do I do? Calm down, you know what to do, I just hope I can get away with this. _ He picked up the pad and paper provided by the motel. _Dad, I took Dean to the ER. _He put the note down on his bed.

"Dean?" he said quietly.

"Is it time to go already, Sammy?" his brother asked, his voice sounding sleepy and confused.

"Yeah, Dean, let's get you out to the car." He helped Dean up, his brother was leaning on him, Sam pretty much carried him out the door to the car. On the way out he noticed Dean hadn't opened his eyes and his movements were mechanical as Sam steered him to the car. Once there Sam lowered him down in the passenger seat. "I'll drive, that way you can sleep a little more, ok?" Dean nodded, Sam started the car and eased it out of the lot, wondering how far he would get before his father realized they were gone and came after them.

Sam pulled up at the emergency room seven minutes later. He left Dean in the car as he went in to talk to the triage nurse. The waiting room was empty, the nurses were sitting, looking bored, at their station. _How many ERs have you ever been in like this? _The nurse was attentive, listening as he explained about Dean's injuries and the fall in the bathroom. The nurse checked the computer records, the clinic Dean had been treated at earlier was, for better or worse, part of the same health care group.

"They looked him over carefully, Sam," she said, smiling at him as she checked the records.

"I know, but he fell and landed pretty hard. He couldn't get up by himself and…" _I had this dream, I know it sounds crazy but I think it means something. _"My brother is one of those people, you know, who makes light of his injuries and I'm just worried that the fall might have made something worse."

"Bring him in and we'll just make sure he hasn't done anything else," she said with a gentle, reassuring smile.

"Thank you." Sam went back to the car and opened the door. "Come on, Dean, let's go in." Dean didn't move. "Dean?" Sam shook his brother, gently at first then a little harder. "Dean?" He turned and ran back into the ER. "My brother, he's unconscious."

Suddenly activity exploded around Sam, he watched as they brought Dean in, unmoving, on a stretcher and rushed him back behind the doors in the ER. The nurse came over and told him he would have to wait. She said they would send someone to get him when it was ok to go back. Sam stood staring at the doors, wondering what was happening, wondering what was wrong.

"What the hell is going on?" an angry voice demanded from behind Sam. He knew that tone all to well. It was the tone that demanded answers. His father was angry, even furious, at him. Sam knew that and much more from that tone and those six words.

Sam turned from the doors to his father. "I don't know."

"I told you we would get him checked in the morning," John continued, his eyes reflecting the tension, the anger in his body. "We can't be running to the ER every time one of us gets bruised."

"I think it's more than that, dad. I just have this feeling…" Sam was starting to get angry, trying to communicate his worry.

"And you just decided to bring him down here?"

"I did try and tell you earlier. Remember? You said he was fine." Sam said, staring his father down. "Something is wrong, by the time I got him here he was unconscious. Doesn't sound fine to me."

"What?" John said, that fact slowed him down a bit. He turned away from Sam, walking into the waiting room and stopping at the coffee machine.

"Sam?" A nurse approached him sometime later. The hands on the clock were unmoving, the clock stopped at four. Sam had no idea how much time had passed, no idea how long it had been since he'd arrived with Dean, since his father had gotten there, how long he'd been standing there, staring at the doors, listening to the hammering of his heart. Time had frozen.

"Yeah?"

"Would you like…?" She frowned at John as he approached, barreling down on them like a bull after a red flag.

"What's wrong with my son?" his tone demanding an immediate answer.

She smiled, not daunted by John at all. Sam smiled to himself as the nurse kept speaking, unfazed by his father in full-blown drill sergeant mode. "The doctor will talk to you when you go back." She pointed them through the doors. "Room twenty-seven."

Sam walked into the ER, glancing at room numbers until he found his brother's room. His father was right behind him. Sam could tell his father was still irritated by the nurse's lack of communication. He smiled. _Nice to know he can't push everyone around. _Sam moved the curtain aside and went into Dean's room. His brother was lying on the bed looking fragile and pale. Sam's eyes ran over the heart monitor, the tube under his brother's nose and stopped on the IV. _Blood?_ He walked over to the bed and stood there, close to Dean.

"I'm Dr. Bowen," a small dark-haired woman said, coming in the room. "Sam?"

"I'm his father, tell me what's going on," John said from where he was still standing by the door. The doctor looked at him with an odd light in her eyes, a slight frown between her well-shaped eyebrows, obviously reacting to his tone.

"Will Dean be ok?" Sam said, looking from the doctor to his father.

"Thanks to you," she said. "You saved your brother's life."

"What? How?" John snapped.

"Sam told us he'd fallen in the bathroom. One of the cracked ribs—well his liver was perforated and he's been slowly bleeding to death since then. Another hour or so and we couldn't have saved him," she smiled at Sam. "You did a good job, how did you know?"

"I, uh, I had a dream," Sam stuttered out.

She looked at him inquisitively, then smiled, "However you knew, you need to listen to those instincts." She left the room.

**Be still my beating heart**  
**Present**

"Is this like that, Dean? Do the dreams mean something?" Sam sighed, looking at Dean. "But if it means something, what? They said there was nothing wrong with your heart. Pleurisy and pneumonia, but they also said the antibiotics would help and they haven't. You're still getting sicker, your fever is still going up. What do I do?" He paused, listening to the beep of the monitor. _Do I say something? They'll think I'm crazy. _

He stood up. "I'm going to get a cup of coffee. I'll be right back, ok?" He wandered to the espresso stand, smiling at the barista, she had been there for his last three lattes.

"Hi, Sam," she smiled, the blue ring on her lower lip sparkling a little in the light. "You need another?"

"Thanks," he smiled back.

"How's your brother doing?" she asked.

"No change," he said, watching her steam the milk for his coffee. "I just have this feeling that they're missing something important."

"It happens," she said adding whipped cream to the top of the cup. "My grandmother knew something was wrong with my granddad. He thought she was nuts, she called his doctor and he thought she was nuts, too, and granddad had a heart attack the next day." She held out the cup. "On the house this time."

"You sure?" he smiled at her. "Thanks."

Dean's doctor was standing outside the room when Sam got back. "Doctor?" _Out with it, Sam. If you don't say anything and something happens you'll regret it forever._

"Yes?"

"How is my brother doing?" he asked, stalling.

"To be honest, I'm concerned. He is not responding. We are scheduling some tests to see if we can figure out what is going on."

"Is he dying?" Sam said, carefully watching the doctor's face to get the answer.

"I don't have an answer for you," he said.

_And that's a yes. I can see it in his eyes. _He took a deep breath. "I think there might be something wrong with his heart." _Because I have been having this dream, you see, and sometimes my dreams come true. No, I'm not insane._

"We checked his heart when he was here the other night," the doctor looked at him condescendingly. "There was nothing wrong."

"It's just, I have this feeling…" Sam trailed off, the doctor was looking at him like he was crazy. Sam took a deep breath to try another tack when he heard an alarm going off. The doctor turned back into Dean's room. Sam saw the nurses running from their station, following the doctor into the room.

Sam looked through the door, the clipped orders and responses drifting out to him, the words not really making sense. "Cardiac arrest. Crash. Code." The words had significance, he knew. _No, it's like the dream. He's dying! It was his heart. He's dying, please save him._

"Clear." His brother's body bucked under the electric shock. Sam watched, unable to pull his eyes away.

"Dean, come on," Sam said, trapped at the door, watching what was going on. The lines on the monitor were erratic. _There's still something there, still a sign of life, as long as it beeps, as long as there is rhythm. Come on, Dean._

"Clear." The thump of the shock sounding a harsh counterpoint to the beeping of the monitor.

"Dean, come on," he whispered again, half statement, half prayer. _Dean? Come back, you can, come on. It can't be like the dream Dean, don't die, not now, not yet._

"Clear." The thump of the shock through his brother's body resonated through Sam.

The beeping of the monitor suddenly stopped. The single tone drowning out all other sounds in the ward. Sam glanced at the monitor, the lines were flat.

"No, Dean, come on," Sam said, tears running out of his eyes and still that single terrifying tone. There was nothing else left, no other sound, nothing, just that single tone and those flat lines.

_Dean?_

_**To Be Continued**_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. I know the updates are taking awhile, but I am madly trying to finish a novel for a contest. I hope to have the book off to the judges in a week or two. I have a MidWinter story planned and I hope to start before the 22__nd__! A note on this story, after struggling with doctors for a month I was somewhat horrified to hear the "we're not sure" one too many times! And then a doctor actually suggested (albeit jokingly) the problem might be supernatural in origin. Thanks as always, no words can express, to beta Abni._

**Be Still My Beating Heart**

**Chapter Seven**

_I've been to every single book I know  
To soothe the thoughts that plague me so  
-Sting_

There was only that single tone, buzzing in his ears, pulling everything away with it, the single note marking the passage of his brother's life. _No, Dean, please. _He was watching the actions of the doctors and nurses working on his brother, removed from them, unable to tear his eyes away, his own body recoiling from the shock sent through Dean's lifeless body.

_No, Dean, come on. _

The tone broke, Sam held his breath, waiting. A beep, another and then another. He eyes tracked up to the monitor, the line was no longer flat but back into a pattern moving across the screen. Sam was still standing there, unable to move, unable to think, as the medical staff filed out of the room. The doctor stopped in front of Sam.

"Sam?" he said.

"My brother?"

"Alive," he said, his voice curt.

"What happened?"

"Cardiac arrest," the doctor said.

_Yeah, really? I think I figured that one out by myself._ "Why? What's wrong with his heart?" _And I think I told you there was something wrong with his heart and you said no and then? THEN MY BROTHER'S HEART STOPPED. _Sam took a deep breath, trying to force the words screaming in his head away.

"We aren't sure yet, we need to run some tests," the doctor said. "You can go back in." He turned and walked away, leaving Sam alone in the hall, people and noise flowing around him as he stood rooted to the spot. Finally he forced his feet into movement, slowly dragging himself back to Dean's bed. He stood for a minute looking at his brother, even unconscious Dean's face reflected pain, dark circles under his eyes giving the impression of bruises.

"It's not supposed to be like this, Dean. Not now, not yet." He laughed, the bitter sound harsh in the quiet room. "This is just pneumonia remember? A little pleurisy? All fixed with bed rest? Are you going to let something like this take you out?"

Sam sighed, the anger draining out of him, leaving a hurting, aching wound. "What do I do? How can I help? Why didn't you tell me before it got like this? Why can't you ever open up to me about stuff like this? You think you are so damn tough, impervious and somehow if you aren't you are less of a person? I hate dad, sometimes, for doing that to you Dean. Suck it up, Winchester, the creed of the family. And it leads to disaster Dean, it always has."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Can you hear me, Dean? You can't let this happen anymore. I'm not going to lose you because of something stupid, something you just neglected to mention. Damn it, Dean." He was so absorbed he didn't notice someone had entered the room until she spoke to him.

"We need to run some tests," she said gently. "Why don't you go down and get something to eat? It will probably be an hour or so until we are done."

"What?" Sam looked at her. "Oh, ok. About an hour?" She nodded and left the room, Sam watched her go before turning back to his brother. "They just told me they want to run a few tests, Dean. It will let them figure out what's going on with you, help make you better, ok? I'm going to grab a quick cup of coffee while they do that, they don't want me in here watching. But it's gong to be ok, Dean, they are going to figure this out, got it?" He gave his brother's arm a little squeeze and walked out of the room, heading mechanically towards the elevators.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened on the ground floor, the scent of food and coffee mingling together with the stale air in the elevator. His stomach grumbled a little, followed by a wave of nausea. _Great, so I'm hungry but it's going to make me sick. Well, honestly I don't remember eating recently, just drinking coffee, maybe I should eat something. _He ordered a deli sandwich and sat down at one of the tables in the corner of the room.

_How did I let him get away with this? After everything how did I let this slide? I knew something was wrong. _He pushed the chips around on his plate. _I wish I'd grabbed the laptop this morning. Maybe I could find something. Who am I kidding? He's in a hospital, they'll find out what's going on and they'll fix it. What if it's not completely natural? What if there is something else going on? Could I have missed something in the panic? What if…?_ Sam sipped his soda, letting the thoughts bounce around in his head, playing the last hunt carefully before his eyes. Not finding anything he let his mind reach a little further back. _When did I first start noticing the dizzy spells? How long ago? And everything else? _He paused, waiting for the pieces to fall into place. _Were you hiding something from me then, Dean? I wonder, that hunt, I'm not sure now, all those people…Was that the beginning of this? _

**Three Weeks Earlier**

It had finally stopped raining, the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds and bathing the countryside in soft colors. A rainbow had appeared in the northern sky and water dripped from the gutter of the diner in bright sparkling drops.

_All we need now is the freaking blue bird of happiness to fly in._ Dean took a sip of his coffee and tried to relax his stiff shoulders. He was trying to keep the movement from Sam, his brother's eagle eyes had been trained a little more intently on him lately. _Which is just great. All I need is Sam keeping an eye on me right now. _He was feeling run down, and he was worried his brother might make more of that than was strictly necessary. _And I'm sure it's just a touch of the flu or something. That hunt was a little harder than usual. Whatever the hell that thing was created enough havoc to last the world several years. All those people. Dead, and it looked natural. Love that, my favorite kind of evil, looks natural so no one even notices before it's too late._

"Dean?" Sam said.

"Yep?"

"You feeling ok?"

Dean looked at his brother, Sam had a little frown on his face. "Sam, I'm fine." The frown deepened. "I think I just got a bug from the plague rats."

"What are you talking about?"

"The daycare? Remember? All those kids had runny noses. Plague rats, Sammy, I'm telling you. It was kids not rats that were responsible for the Black Death."

"Right, sure. You ready?"

"Yeah," he handed Sam some money to pay the bill and headed to the door. A woman with a small child opened the door, slamming it into his shoulder. The door had slammed right into a wound left by the object of their last hunt. Dean gritted his teeth and ignored the tears that sprung to his eyes, then grumbled a little and walked out to the Impala. _I am beat, those kids really infected me with something. _He got into the passenger seat of the car and waited for Sam—and the inevitable explosion the seating arrangement would cause. He shifted down until he was comfortable. He could see Sam walking up to the car out of the corner of his eye. _Ignoring you. I don't see you peering in at me. Ignoring you. _

Sam walked around and pulled the driver's side door open. "Dean?"

"Sam?" He said in the exact same tone.

"What are you doing?"

"Dancing. You?"

"Seriously, dude, what do you think you're doing?"

"I thought you liked to drive," he said. _This might have been a mistake, all I need is for him to ask…_

"I do like to drive, Dean. But why now?"

"I told you, I think I have a bug," Dean said as his brother slid into the seat and turned on the car. He smiled as he watched Sam pull carefully out of the parking lot, resisting the urge to look over at Dean, resisting the urge to check up on him. _How long will it take before he asks. I wonder, one, two, three…_

"I don't know, Dean. Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine Sam. And you know I was up late last night with that waitress, Lola, she was fun, you know and she had a friend, a hot Heather." He glanced over at his brother, waiting.

"I don't need to hear about that, so shut up."

"Oh man, they were hot, Lola and the Heather and one of the hottest Heathers except that one in New Mexico…" Dean smiled as Sam muttered "just shut up" again and leaned his head back against the seat. The creeping exhaustion was really starting to wear him down. His shoulder hurt where the door had run into it. The sun coming in the window was warm, though and helped relax him.

"Ok, dude I'm worried now, just this side of panicked," Sam said sometime later.

"What? Why?" _Was I talking in my sleep?_

"You've been humming Barry Manilow for the last half hour, has me a little worried."

"What?"

"Copacabana? You've been humming it for a long time now."

"I doubt it," he snapped. _Ok, I was, but not telling him._ "I'm worried that you can recognize Manilow, at all, dude."

He sighed, shifting around again. _God I'm tired. _He looked out the window. _I wonder if it's more than a bug. That creature…When it did whatever it did? When I guess it stung me? I wonder if I should have mentioned that to Sam? All those other people, but once it's dead its effects are gone right? If it's not better in a couple of days, I'll bring it up. Of course by then it will be too late probably. _ He shook his head and saw Sam catch the movement. _Watch the road Sam. Leave me alone. _Now that the thought had formed it was bouncing around inside his head like a crazed tennis ball. _I'm just overreacting, it's the flu._ _I'll be fine, I'm just working up into a panic attack. _He put his head against the window and let the familiar sound and rhythm of the car lull him to sleep.

The sun was starting to set when he opened his eyes. The radio was off and Sam was humming to himself. "Dude, is that Manilow?"

Sam looked over and smiled at him. "And you recognized it. I'm worried Dean, I think those kids gave you something like easy listening flu."

"Bite me, Sammy," he said, sitting up and looking around. _God, I'm still beat. _"Let's stop in the next town, I don't care how bad the motel is, I'm ready to not be in the car." _Oops, that was probably not the best thing to say._ Surprisingly Sam didn't say anything, just turned and gave him something of a long look before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Ok, Dean, I think it's about ten miles, is that ok?"

"Sure, Sam, sounds good."

It proved to be a town with only five motels and they were all full. Sam pulled into the parking lot at the last motel in town, The Rose Arbor Inn, and went into the office. Dean sat staring moodily at the fake flowers planted in the flowerbeds outside the rooms. Each door had a painted rose vine over it, a small pot of flowers in bright pinks and yellows stenciled on each door, the whole place was pink and light blue. _This is great, the only thing that could possibly make it worse is…_

Sam opened the driver's door. "They only have single king." He said, looking in at Dean. _Yep, that's the thing._ "You want to go on? She called for me, the nearest room, other than this one, is another two hours from here. There's a bluegrass festival going on and all the towns are booked solid."

_I'm beat, my bones ache. I want out of this car. _"I don't care if it's a single blanket on the floor. I need a break, dude."

Sam smiled, "That's what I thought you'd say, I got the room." He dropped into the car and pulled down to the end of the parking lot.

Dean was staring at the door in horror. The door had a huge bouquet of flowers painted on it. There were coy fat-cheeked doves painted at the top of the door, they were sitting on a pair of silvery bells and they had a white ribbon in their beaks. "Is this the bridal suite?"

"Yeah," Sam said getting out of the car. "It has a kitchenette."

"No, single king is one thing, bridal suite is something else."

"It has cable and free donuts in the morning."

"No, hell no, Sam."

"Dean?" Sam said carrying their bags to the door.

"No. What part of no are you not hearing?"

"It has a Jacuzzi."

"What?"

"Jacuzzi, Dean."

"Jacuzzi?" he said, getting out of the car. "Why didn't you say so sooner?" Sam laughed as Dean pushed past him into the room and practically dove into the bathroom. "I get it first!" He turned the tap on and walked back out into the room. _Man those stupid kids, my nose is running. _Sam was staring at him. "What? I get first Jacuzzi. I called it."

"Dean?" Sam was walking towards him, a frown on his face. He pulled a washcloth down from the towel rack and pressed it against Dean's face.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"Your nose is bleeding."

"What, no it's not, it's just runny from the plague rats."

"I think I know the difference," Sam said, pulling him towards the bed. "Tilt your head back."

Dean batted at Sam's hand. "I can do this, you know." He tried to push Sam away. His brother didn't go, instead he kept one hand on the back of Dean's head and the other against the cloth he was pressing against his nose. "The bath, check the back," Dean said, trying to distract his brother.

"It's fine, Dean, it's a big tub. Hold still." After a minute Sam pulled the cloth away and peered at Dean. "I think it's stopped."

"Good," Dean snapped and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. _Great, no towels in here. _He opened the door, glared at Sam while he grabbed a towel off the rack then went back in, slamming the door again. _I might have overplayed that a bit. If Sam had suddenly started bleeding I might be a little concerned too. _He pulled off his shirt, there was a large bruise on his shoulder and neck from where the door had hit his wounded shoulder earlier. _I wonder how I hide that? I need to have someone teach me how to use makeup right. It might be handy, especially when Sam is in Mother Hen mode._

He sank into the tub with a sigh. After a few minutes he turned the timer for the jets on, cranking it all the way over to forty minute. He leaned back in the tub and let the hot water and jets beat against his sore muscles. _Stupid plague rats. _

The jets switching off woke him. He opened his eyes and looked around the room. _At least I didn't drown, that would have bothered Sam. _He got out and toweled off, pulling on his sleeping clothes. When he walked out of the room Sam was sitting on the bed with the laptop open, grinning.

"What?" Dean said dropping down on the other side of the large bed and sliding under the covers. _Stupid plague rats, I think I have a fever._

"Oh this website, a friend sent me a link. It's pretty demented."

"Oh really?" Dean scooted over till he was leaning against Sam so he could see the computer screen. "Foamy the Squirrel? What?"

"You have to see this one, Dean. He buys the toaster from the Amityville horror house," Sam said laughing. He hit play on the screen. Dean was laughing halfway through and by the time it was over he had to ask Sam to replay it so he could hear the end, he'd missed some while he was laughing.

"I told you frozen waffles were trouble, Sammy."

"I don't think you ever said they might turn into a toasted human hand."

"I just didn't have the right toaster," he said smiling at his brother and scooting a little closer. _To see the screen, that's all, just to see the screen. It has nothing to do with feeling a little sick. Nothing to do with that thing stinging me, cause I'm fine, it has nothing to do with any of that. Nope. Stupid plague rats. _"Are there more?"

"Sure," Sam went back to the main page and chose "Eye Stigmata" next and after that "Free Your Mind," then "Small, Medium, Large." Halfway through "Squirrel Songs," Dean realized he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, and by the time Sam was playing "Tech Support," Dean had let his head drop against his brother's shoulder and had drifted off to sleep.

**XXX**

"Which one do you want to watch next?" Sam said when "Tech Support" was over. "Dean?" He looked down, his brother was sound asleep with his head resting against Sam's shoulder. "Dean?" he said quietly, just to make sure, when he got no response he carefully pulled the covers over his brother's shoulder and tried to shift enough to get comfortable without waking him. _He'll kill me if he wakes up like this, but I don't want to wake him if he's sick. And he must be. I think we'll stay here tomorrow, no matter what he says. Maybe I can find a hunt or something to distract him._

Sam began surfing through the usual sites, looking for something, anything that he could use an excuse to keep Dean there for another day or two. The fact that his brother had admitted to not feeling well was something of a concern for Sam. Dean never mentioned things like that unless he was at death's door. _Which is just not a comforting thought. _Sam sighed, he wasn't having much luck. _I'll just take his keys. That'll solve the problem Yeah right, Sam. Brilliant idea. _He closed the laptop and carefully put it on the nightstand, shifting as little as possible, and grabbed the TV remote. Nothing was on. _Great. _

Dean sighed and rolled over off of his shoulder. Sam got more comfortable, moving pillows and flipping through the channels again. He looked over to check on Dean and froze. There was a huge bruise on Dean's neck. Sam carefully pulled his brother's t-shirt back, trying to assess damage. _Where the hell did that come from? I can't remember him running into anything but the door at the diner. Could that have caused…no, he gets hit harder than that all the time and never shows any injury at all. Hmmm, I might need to ask him about that. And he'll tell me, yeah, sure he will, he is really good about sharing that kind of thing with me. _He scooted down a little further in bed and let himself go to sleep.

His brother was still sleeping when Sam woke up to sunlight pouring through a crack in the shades. He slid out of bed and went in to take a shower, when he was done and came out, Dean was still asleep. _I'll run get coffee and donuts and be right back. _He picked up the notepad and jotted down a quick note, he made a copy and stuck one on the bedside table by Dean and the other in the bathroom, just to make sure Dean didn't miss it and panic. _Not that he would admit to that panic._

He was back within half an hour. Dean was still asleep. _I wonder if I should be worried? He usually sleeps in, I just think I am overreacting a little. But still, that bruise, his nosebleed, his ongoing complaints. He has the flu, Sam, relax. _He put the coffee down on the table.

"Is that coffee?" Dean's voice made him jump.

"Yeah, dude you sound awful," Sam said, carrying a cup to Dean in bed.

"Plague rats," Dean croaked out.

"I think we should stay here today, Dean," he said, gearing himself up for the coming explosion. Which didn't come.

"I think you're right, I could stand another Jacuzzi or two and the plague rats have got me," he said with a smirk.

"Good, I'm glad you didn't fight me on this," Sam said, getting his coffee from the table and dropping down next to Dean on the bed. He offered him a donut from the selection he had made.

"What would you do? Take the keys?"

"Nah, I had blackmail planned."

"Yeah, right, like what?" Dean said reaching for his second donut.

"You fell asleep with your head on my shoulder last night."

"No I didn't."

"Yeah you did," Sam said, smiling at him. Dean knew it, Sam knew it and Dean knew that Sam knew. He grinned back.

"No I didn't."

"Fine, whatever." Sam said. "If you're good and stay in bed today I'll take you to the steakhouse down the road for dinner. The ad in the motel lobby says they have prime rib with salad bar and fresh sourdough bread every day from four to six for $7.99 each."

"I'll be good for prime rib, Sammy, have no fear." He leaned back in bed. "What are your plans for the day?"

"I thought I would go to the library." Sam paused, his brother rolled his eyes. "The motel clerk told me about a haunted farm outside of town, thought I would look into it, since we are going to be here for a day or two."

"A day, I'll be fine tomorrow." Dean said, glaring at him a little. There wasn't really anything behind the glare, Sam knew it and smiled at his brother.

"Ok, we'll see. The plague rats might have gotten you a little worse than you think."

"Go to the library and leave me to suffer on my own," Dean said with a frown.

"I'll bring back chicken soup and tea with toast, how's that?" Sam said, laughing.

"As long as I still get prime rib you can bring me back tofu. I won't eat it, but I won't kill you either."

Sam was still laughing at the look on Dean's face as he walked out the door and got in the car. He headed into town to the library they had passed the night before and, after parking the car, he went in to spend a couple of happy hours researching. He loved the research. He liked getting to know something about where they were and what had happened there, he liked knowing the context of the hunt, the people involved. It gave substance to a life that was full of intangibles and spirit forms.

He realized after an hour that he had shifted the research away from a possible hunt to the creature they had killed two nights before. He wanted to know more about it. There was a nagging voice in his head telling him to research, to learn all he could. He wasn't sure why, but he had learned the hard way to trust that voice, especially when it was connected to Dean.

At just afternoon he was back on the street and found a grocery store with a gourmet soup bar. He got Dean chicken noodle, knowing his brother's fondness for the soup, and Tuscan tomato basil for himself. He headed back to the motel with the soup and other items, including cough drops.

Dean was in the Jacuzzi when he got back. He could hear the muted sound of the jets through the wall. He knocked on the door to the bathroom.

"Occupado!" Dean yelled.

"I brought some lunch back when you're done in there."

"Five minutes, Sammy," Dean said.

He actually appeared a little faster than that, wrenching the door open and walking out into the room. "Hey whatever it is smells good." He sat down at the table across from Sam and looked down at the bowl of soup. "Thanks," he said with a smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"A little better, good enough to eat prime rib, you know. Have no doubt about that."

"You don't have to remind me Dean, I know I said I would take you, I remember, I'm not five."

"Just checking."

They finished lunch and Sam sat down to surf a little more, keeping one eye on his brother the whole time, so he was looking when Dean sneezed and his nose started bleeding again. Sam was up from the table with a washcloth in his hand before the blood really got going. He held the cloth against Dean's face till it stopped.

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean said before he could say anything.

"Two nosebleeds, Dean? Doesn't seem fine to me."

"Plague rats, Sammy, they got me, and it is dry here, you know, makes my nose bleed."

"Sure it does." Sam looked at him. "I think you should go to a doctor."

"No, it's just the flu."

"Ok, whatever."

"Sorry Sammy, but no doctors, I'm fine," his brother said.

_And that comment right there makes me think you aren't fine at all, Dean. _Sam got up and went back to the computer, one eye still turned on Dean. He got up and paced around for awhile, thinking about the information he had dug up on the creature and then went back to surfing and listening to Dean flip through the stations over and over and over, until at 4:30 Sam couldn't take it anymore and told Dean to get dressed, they were going to dinner.

It proved a nice distraction and Dean seemed to be feeling better after the meal. He was flirting with the waitress and smiling at another girl across the room. Sam finally suggested they might want to go into the lounge and listen to the bluegrass band playing that night "Not Quite Black Sabbath."

"Hell no, Sam."

"Why not, they might be good, it's all covers of Sabbath you know."

"I didn't like it when David Lee Roth did that with Van Halen, why would I take it from some no name hick band in the middle of nowhere?"

"Come on, Dean, it might be good," Sam said imploringly, his little brother "please give me my way" voice. And it worked, it always worked.

"Ok, Sammy, let me get my jacket from the car, I'm cold."

"Sure," Sam watched Dean go and got up and went towards the lounge. He had been sitting at a table for a few minutes when he realized Dean had his jacket on when he left the restaurant. Sam headed out to the car, Dean was sitting in the passenger seat, head against the window, with his eyes closed. Sam noticed, really for the first time, the deep lines of exhaustion on his brother's face and the dark circles, looking like he had two black eyes.

"Dean?" he said, opening the driver side door.

"Hmm?" Dean said, opening his eyes.

Not wanting to show his concern, Sam said, "The waitress is off, she's looking for you."

"Oh, that's nice," Dean said. "But I think I would like to just go back to the motel, is that ok? I think the plague rats really got me down."

Sam slid into the driver's seat and turned the car on. He noticed when his brother sat up and let his hand rest against the edge of Sam's leg.

_Ok, Dean, now I'm worried._

The next morning Dean seemed to have more energy and the bruise on his shoulder was fading into nothing. He was in a cheerful mood and was back to his usual self. Sam chided himself for letting his worry get the better of him and so he finally gave in when Dean said they should head out of town, Jacuzzi not-withstanding. Putting the town and the creature behind them seemed like a good idea and Sam breathed a sigh of relief as the Impala headed out of town.

**Present**

The cafeteria was noisy, dishes clanking, people talking. The voice on the PA was making the annoying announcement "Matt the Physician's Assistant please report to emergency." Sam listened to the conversation around him, the words not making sense, just sounds as a backdrop to his memory, to the thoughts that wouldn't let him go. _But he seemed fine after that, and that was weeks ago. I need to get the laptop. _He glanced at his watch, it had only been fifteen minutes since he'd come down. _Ok, there and back, I can research here, they have WiFi. _

Sam was back at the hospital less than thirty minutes later. He went to Dean's room, it was empty. Sam checked in at the nurses' station to let them know he would be in the café, giving them his cell number to call when Dean was back, and then headed back down, securing himself a place by the door and leaving his cell on the table so he wouldn't miss the call. He flipped his computer open and started surfing, looking for anything that would fit his brother's symptoms, any connection to the creature.

_I am probably just on a wild goose chase here, I know it. Sometimes Dean's "don't worry once it's dead" attitude drives me nuts. "As long as we killed it, Sammy." That's helping us here. And then my dream, his heart, the pool of dirty water, the flames, what does that mean? Dirty water? And the first? Dean lying in a pool of his own blood, but what does it mean? Something in his blood? And dirty water? Something polluting? What does that mean? What?_

He was paging through a site, ignoring most of it, when something caught his eye. He scrolled back to the top of the page and read slowly down. "The creature is an ancient demon of chaos and pestilence, gaining pleasure watching the destruction of civilization and creating suffering and death. It will, for lack of a better term, sting the victim, this causes, over time, the victim's immune system to collapse. Early symptoms include flu-like symptoms, nosebleeds, bruising, dizziness, fever. These clear up within a day or two. It takes several weeks for the full effect of the sting to show itself and the victim will eventually succumb to an opportunistic infection. See: Yellow Fever Epidemic, 541 A.D.; Black Death, 1340; Great Plague of London, 1665; Cholera Pandemic 1816 and 1832; Flu pandemic,1918."

_Is that what this is? It's using his own body to kill him? And just, according to this, for chaos? Why Dean? Oh and Dean, think you could have mentioned that thing got you before now? We might have been able to figure it out before it got out of hand. I should have said something then, but I thought it was just the flu and it went away._

His phone was ringing, he was wanted back in Dean's room. When he got there the doctor was waiting outside. He looked grim.

"Doctor?"

"Your brother, you were right, there is something wrong with his heart."

"What?" _Maybe I'm wrong, and they can fix this._

"Pericarditis, which caused cardiac tamponade," he said.

"What?" _That sounds medical, maybe they can fix this after all. Maybe I'm wrong, they can fix this._

"It's an inflammation of the pericardium, the sac around the heart, and fluid has accumulated there. We are draining it."

"So, he's going to get better?" _I was wrong, they are fixing this._

"We can treat him, it's just…"

"What?"

"His immune system is shutting down, it's why the drugs aren't working," the doctor said with a frown.

"But once you take the pressure off his heart, he'll be ok, right?" _I have to be wrong, you have to fix this._

"We can take the pressure off, we can keep him comfortable, but no, he's not going to be alright. There is nothing we can do."

_Oh, god, I wasn't wrong. You can't fix this. What do I do? Dean, he just told me you're dying. He just told me this is it. They can't fix it, even with everything they, can do they can't fix it. What can I do? Dean? What the hell do I do?_

_**To Be Continued**_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Like Sam I am blending rituals from different shamanistic practices, they are all founded in actual rituals practiced by various cultures. The nursery rhyme can be a source of controversy, I am going with one interpretation. Not death fic. _

**Be Still My Beating Heart**

**Chapter Eight**

_Stop before you start  
-Sting_

The words seemed to echo in the noisy hallway. The nurses were chattering at their station, a TV was on, children's laughter drifted down the corridor, but all Sam heard were the words echoing in his head, silencing all else.

"There's nothing we can do," the doctor said.

"What do you mean?" Sam said, shaking himself a little.

"We're at a loss, the antibiotics are not working, none of them. He's fading."

"Fading?" Sam snapped. "Do you mean he's dying?" _Oh god, no. _

"Yes."

_No, no, no. _"How long?" he heard himself ask.

"At this rate I can't be sure, but…I'm sorry… won't be long, a day, maybe two or three. No more," the doctor said, looking at Sam with that compassion the medical profession managed when giving bad news._ I swear that look is almost as bad or maybe worse than the happy face news people have when reporting tragedy. _"We'll do our best, keep him comfortable, make it as easy as possible on both of you."

_Just exactly how can you make my brother dying easy for me? Are you planning to sedate me so I don't know? And then keep me there? Unless that's the plan I don't think it's going to be easy. Oh, god, Dean. _"Can I go in?" Sam said, torn between wanting to make sure Dean was still alive with his own eyes and heading back to the cafeteria to do more research. The need to check on Dean won; when the doctor nodded Sam took a deep breath and headed back into the room.

_**Ring around the rosy**_

Dean looked even worse than he had before, dark smudges surrounded his eyes, his cheeks were bright red. Sam tried to ignore the tubes stuck into his brother._God, Dean. _He gently eased the edge of Dean's gown down to look at his shoulder. There, so tiny it would go almost unnoticed, was a small red spot surrounded by a purple-red ring. Sam bent closer to get a good look, something about it seemed familiar. He wasn't sure why. He could feel the heat radiating off of Dean.

"This is not good, Dean. Crossing the beams bad, actually. And you know? It would have been nice if you had mentioned when that thing stung you. I would've had more time to find an answer." He sank down on the edge of the bed.

"The doc told me you're dying. They said there's nothing they can do," Sam paused for a minute, fighting the tears that were forming in his eyes. "But don't worry, Dean, I don't believe that for a minute. Well actually I do believe there's nothing they can do, but I'll find something, I know I will. I know where it started, all I have to do is figure out a way to stop it. I need to do a little more research, I'm going to go down to the cafeteria and use the WiFi, but I'll be back in half an hour to check on you, ok? Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone or it's chickens for you."

Sam reached over and turned the TV on, flipping through the channels till he found the PBS station, it was playing, as he hoped, the Red Dwarf marathon yet again. "Red Dwarf, Dean, looks like they just started over on season one." Sam gave his brother's arm a little squeeze then headed back to the cafeteria.

He was back scrolling through page after page of information. _There is not really a lot of information on it at all. Lots of information on what happens after it appears. But we killed it, or I thought we did. _He paused, scrolling back up the page. _What does that say? It appears to die but the only way you can get rid of it is through banishment? Drive it into the earth? _He went further down the page. "Even after banishment the demon will reappear at given intervals. See Yellow Fever, Black Death, etc."

_Ok, so I have to banish it. That should be easy, banishing demons of chaos, always easy, no problems there. This would be easier if you were around to help, Dean. _Sam sighed, following lead after lead until his phone beeped. He picked up his laptop and walked slowly back towards Dean's room.

"Hey, Dean, I'm back. I think I made a good beginning on the research, I just wanted to check in with you and see how you were doing." Sam looked down at his brother. "I want to do a little more research and then I might call Bobby, but I'll be back up in an hour. I'll eat dinner here, ok? I'll hang around as long as they'll let me."

Sam stopped by the espresso stand on the way back down. The girl with the blue lip ring was back. "Hi, Sam. How's your brother?"

"Uh…"

"Oh," she said, looking at him and then starting his latte. "Do they know what's wrong?"

"Yes and no, I guess," he said. "They think they know what's wrong, but there is nothing they can do about it."

"I'm so sorry," she said, handing him the latte. "Put your money back, it's still on the house." She smiled at him, handing him the cup of coffee.

"Thanks," Sam said, a little bewildered. _Dean's the one that gets stuff from women, not me. _He wandered back to his table and opened the computer again. Half an hour later he was pretty sure what he needed to do. He snapped the laptop closed. _Ok, I need to know where to get everything. _He stopped by the espresso stand.

"Ready for another already?" she said, smiling at him.

"Uh, um, no, I was wondering…" he broke off. _I am making a big presumption here. I'm just hoping her necklace means more than irritating her parents. _"You wouldn't happen to know if there is a pagan shop in town, would you?"

"Sure, Crescent Moon downtown. Go up Oak street, left on Azure and then down to D. What are you looking for?" She seemed genuinely interested.

"Well, some herbs, powdered toad, some crystals and a few other items."

"Oh, I'm sure that Mara has all that, she knows a lot," she sighed with obvious hero worship. "She's so wise. I'm off in a little bit if you want me to show you."

"Thanks, I think I'll go now, though," Sam said. "I need to get back to my brother."

Sam walked away from stand and called Bobby. It was comforting to hear the gruff "Hello" on the other end of the line.

"Bobby…"

"What is it, Sam?"

"It's Dean, I think he got hit by a pestilence demon a few weeks back. He's in bad shape now, immune system is shutting down, drugs aren't working. I found a ritual, actually several, and I need a little advice."

"What kind of ritual?"

"Banishment, all the research says you can't kill it, you have to lock it up," Sam said.

"Sounds right."

"Ok," Sam took a deep breath and outlined the rituals he had found.

"You're planning to blend them?"

"They sound like different parts of the same whole, so I thought…"

"I don't like it, Sam. You know that the effigy, they don't mean a straw man in this case."

"It has to be done, Bobby, all the sources say it has to be a human effigy, I can't think of another way to do it, can you?"

"And you're basing part of it on a nursery rhyme, that's insane."

"You know as well as I do that it refers to the plague, what if it refers specifically to the damn demon?" Sam said. "I have to try this."

"Blending the binding ritual with the others though, Sam…"

"Yeah I know, but if it works it's worth it."

"And once you start the ritual, once you are connected there's no going back. If you make a mistake Sam, it could kill you both, and if you are bound you both die. And then, you have no idea how the effigy works, it might be a literal destruction."

"I know all of that. I have to do this," Sam said, he was starting to get angry with the older man.

"Sam, come on, do you think Dean would want that?" Bobby was angry. "You don't even know if this is going to work."

"Bobby, he's dying, and soon. Do you have any other ideas? We thought we killed it, but obviously we didn't. And if it's not dead, it's not just Dean's life on the line, it could be many more."

"Damn it, Sam. I can't let you do this."

"You're too far away to stop me, just talk me through and make sure I have it right," Sam said, walking out of the hospital and getting in the car, trying to remember the directions to the pagan shop in town. Bobby listened to Sam's plans and agreed that the ritual sounded right, but still protested Sam trying it at all. "I'm at the shop Bobby. I'll call you later, after the ritual and let you know how it goes. Moonrise is at 11, it will be after that." Bobby started in again, Sam hung up the phone and walked into the shop.

"Welcome," a tall woman with bright red hair said, walking over to him. "Can I help you?"

"I just need a few things," Sam pulled out his list and looked down at it. He handed her the list.

"Interesting," she said, smiling at him. "I have everything, are you particular about the talisman? I have some nice cheap pendants that would work pretty well."

"As long as they match it doesn't matter." Sam followed her over to the jewelry case.

"These were discontinued, and I only have the two left, I'll give you a good deal, my cost, how's that? Can't even come close for anything else in silver."

Sam was looking at the pendants in horror. "What are they?"

"Faerie wands, like a magic wand? And the stone is genuine moonstone."

Sam was about to refuse and buy something different when a picture of Dean's face popped into his head. That first moment when his brother saw the pendant, the wand was wrapped in tiny vines and flowers with the moonstone dangling from a tiny feather. He couldn't stop the grin. "Ok, those will work, what about the rest?"

She helped him fill the order and, when asked, gave him directions to a small lake outside of town. She frowned a little at the request, but gave him the directions anyway. It was a fifteen minute drive before he pulled up in the parking area. Getting a shovel he walked down to the lakeshore. _I have no idea how I will feel once I start the ritual. How much will I be affected? _He dug a small hole, then, scouting around the edge of the lake, found a fairly large piece of quartz and another of basalt. He placed the stones beside the hole and went back to the car. After stopping by the motel to grab the shirt Dean had been wearing the night he had been stung, Sam headed back to his brother.

The sun was low in the horizon when Sam arrived back at the hospital. He stopped by the nurses' station to ask about Dean. He was oddly comforted when they told him there had been no change. _At least you aren't worse, Dean. You better not be, ok? _Sam walked into Dean's room, Red Dwarf was still playing on the TV, now into season five. He put his bag down on the chair and sat on the bed.

"We need to talk, Dean," he said, looking at his brother. He put a hand on Dean's leg. "I think I know a way to fix this. I talked with Bobby about it and he agrees." _Well, he does, he agrees the ritual might work, he just doesn't think I should try it._ "I have to try, Dean," he said defensively, as if his brother had raised a vehement protest. "I know, I know. But I have to try. If it works, maybe you get better, if it doesn't, no harm, right?" _Except for that whole "once we're connected I die too" thing. But you won't know about that, so it's ok. And really, Dean, if you die…_He sighed. "I have to start as soon as Venus is visible, after I begin I'll need to leave, but that's about the end of visiting hours anyway. I'll be back first thing in the morning."

He started laying out the ritual objects, keeping one eye on the sky, waiting for the star to rise. "It's actually several rituals blended into one, Dean," he said. "Based on shamanic practices. It's an effigy ritual of sort, some of the ideas got a little mixed up, but I traced them back to their origin. I think I have a pretty good idea of how it works."_Yeah, and I think I'll just not mention I'm the effigy that stands in your stead. I don't want you to hear that, cause you'll kill me when it's over._ "I know, you can never be sure how this kind of thing works, I remember."

He sat back on the bed. "Do you remember? That first ritual you let me help with?" Sam smiled at the memory. "I was twelve, I think. We were in Preston, Connecticut? I asked to help and since it was a simple spell you said ok?" He laughed a little. "And then it blew up in our faces? After we got patched up you said 'Always remember Sammy, you can never be sure what's going to happen until it's all the way over.' The look on your face when you said it, part dad, part you, a bit sheepish. And I have remembered, Dean." He took a deep breath. "I need to say this, Dean. I hope this isn't goodbye, but if it is…no, this will work."

_**Pocket full of posies**_

Sam noticed the first hint of Venus in the sky. "Time to start." He got off the bed, closed the door and pulled the silver pendants out of his bag. "Cute, don't you think?" he said, dangling one in front of Dean's face as if his brother could see it. He put them on the bed beside four pieces of woolen yarn, two red, two white. "I'm not sure how to make the pocket work either, so I put the herbs in a little bag." Sam tucked a small velvet bag under Dean's arm. He put another bag in his pocket. "Here we go. This first part will hurt a little, sorry."

He picked up the silver knife and made a small cut in Dean's left hand, then he made a similar, but larger cut in his own hand. Picking up the pendants and the yarn he pressed them between their hands so they were covered in blood. He took a deep breath and recited the first part of the spell, hoping his pronunciation was not too bad. Once he was done he put one pendant around his neck and placed the other on Dean's chest along with one red yarn and one white one, now stained with blood.

Sam then picked up a piece of beeswax, and after rubbing herbs over it, he pressed it between their hands and recited the second part of the spell before dropping on the floor and carefully drawing a pattern under the bed with the wax. It was harder than he thought it would be, the wax invisible against the tiles. Standing up again he picked up the last piece needed for the first part of the ritual. He recited the third part of the spell with Dean's shirt in his hands. He thought he felt something like an electric shock before everything went red for a second. It was suddenly hard to breathe, he swallowed, fighting back a wave of nausea. As his vision cleared he noticed the pattern was now visible on the floor, the lines looking like they were drawn in blood.

He felt strange, his heart was beating sluggishly in his chest, pain was beginning to flow outward from that point. His brain was slowing down a little. _Damn, I didn't count on the sedation affecting me. _He picked up his brother's hand. "I'll see you in the morning, Dean. You just hang on until I can finish this, ok?"

Sam half staggered out of the room, hoping the dizziness wouldn't pose a huge problem while driving out to the lake. His hands were shaking badly by the time he got into the Impala, his head was swimming, it was getting increasingly hard to breathe. _Well I guess the binding worked, Dean. I got that part right, hopefully the rest will work. _He maneuvered the car out on the road, fighting the odd sensation of being in two bodies at once.

He pulled up at the lake and got out, stopping to lean against the car as black spots formed in front of his eyes. Grabbing the bag and a wool blanket from the seat, he stumbled towards the lake and the hole he had dug earlier. He spread the blanket out, then walked to the lakeshore. He poured herbs onto a small piece of wood and lit the herbs on fire, pushing the small raft into the lake. When he got back to the hole, he poured the last of the herbs into it and placed the two pieces of yarn on the rocks, red on the quartz, white on the basalt, and put them in the hole. After drawing the pattern around the hole, he melted three drops of wax at each of the cardinal points, carefully reciting the spell. A shock went through him, knocking him down. The connection with Dean changed, suddenly closer, more complete, a soft blood-red line connecting them.

_Sam? What the hell are you doing?_

"Dean?" he said, pushing himself upright. His brother's voice had sounded so clear. He took a deep breath or tried to, it was getting harder and harder to breathe, his heart was starting to give out, pain was lancing out of his chest. _I think I might be dying. _Sam put the shirt in the hole.

_Stop. Sam stop. Whatever you are doing, stop it. I mean it._

"Dean?" Sam said._That's what that passage means about touching the mind of the living dead. Once you are connected, even though they are unconscious…oops, hadn't planned on that. _"I have to do this, Dean." He dropped a match into the hole, the herbs catching quickly, and suddenly the pattern blazed into red light. Sam felt something, or maybe it was Dean, he wasn't sure anymore. The flames were licking at his feet, the fire beginning to consume him.

_Sam?_

He recited the summoning, felt the thing slide down the blood-red line connecting him with Dean until it appeared before him—a black cloud, looking like a swarm of flies, then coalescing into the creature.

Sam picked up the silver knife. "I stand in effigy"

_Sam no, stop. _

"I stand in his stead."

_Sammy, I mean it._

"My blood is his." He sliced his hand open and let the blood drop onto Dean's shirt.

_Damn it, Sam, I said stop. _

"We are bound." The creature looked at Sam with black eyes, empty holes in the cloudlike face.

_Sammy_

Sam picked up the cypress wood stake, and put the point at the top of the hole. "I press your forehead into the earth." The creature started shrieking.

_Sam, stop. No._

He moved the stake to the other side. "I press your feet into the earth. I press your hands into the earth," he said as he pushed the stake into the ground on either side of the hole. The creature was screaming, grabbing at him with stinging claws passing ghostlike through his body, leaving a trail of pain in their wake.

_Sammy, please stop._

_**Ashes, Ashes**_

"I trap you in the earth, here to remain," Sam said, driving the stake into the hole, pinning Dean's shirt to the ground. Pain lanced out from Sam's chest. The thing screamed as Sam fell. The black cloud exploded up out of the hole, through Sam and along the blood-red line back to Dean. _No. _ The flames were consuming him as they burned in the hole. _Well that explains the whole ashes, ashes part. _He felt Dean's heart struggling to go on, his own beating more erratically. He knew the instant the crisis struck Dean as the pain washed over him, he was gasping for air, the fire mixing with fever burning him. Dean's heart was stopping. Sam, bound to him, was losing the fight as well.

_SAM!_

"I think I killed us both."

_Sam…No. _

"Sorry about that." Sam couldn't breath anymore, his heart was losing the battle. The darkness was closing in on them both, Sam could sense it through their connection. They were both nearly gone.

_Bye, Sammy_

"Goodbye, Dean."

_**We all fall down**_

_**To Be Continued**_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing and being patient as I posted this story. The novel is in the hands of the judges and more fanfic is on the way! Thank you to my beta Abni for that amazing stuff she does, Dennis for reading and rereading and TraSan for some extra handholding when I needed it._

**Be Still My Beating Heart**

**Chapter Nine**

_Never to make promises that break  
It's like singing in the wind  
Or writing on the surface of a lake  
-Sting_

The dark was closing in, a pain-soaked night, the stars pinpricks of agony touching him with their fever-hot points. His heart was stopping, his breathing was slowing, ragged gasping breaths as his body struggled to go on, as it struggled to stay alive through the connection that held him bound to Dean. He was losing the fight. Dean was dying. He was dying.

"Dean, I'm sorry," he said into the night, the cold dark full of soft sounds, the rustling of animals, the gentle lapping of the waves on the lake shore, the hiss of the fire that was burning him alive. "I failed you."

_Sam. _Dean whispered through the connection, his voice weak in those last moments of their lives. _No. _Sudden panic, Dean's voice was stronger for a moment. _No, Sammy. Why? Why did you do this? I can't be the cause of your death and I am. I am. God, Sam. _

It was a strange sensation, aware in his body, aware of Dean, knowing the moment his brother's heart ceased beating, his own slowing, nearly stopping in sympathy, the connection holding them, pulling him along to his death. _Sammy? Are you still there?_ A beat and another and then nothing. A shock vibrated through him, white-hot, pain, thumping into his body unmercifully. Again and again, each one driving him closer to the abyss of darkness waiting for him, and finally, the last shock driving into him—a shaft of pain in his chest exploded outward and shoved him over into the dark.

Something cold was pressed against his face. The cold was accompanied by a soft sniffing sound, something snuffling against his face. Sam cautiously opened one eye, a black lab returned his look. The dog looked at him for a minute longer then turned and walked away. Sam watched the dog, it wandered to the edge of the hole and peered in, deciding there was nothing interesting there it moved on along the edge of the lake.

He rolled over, awareness creeping back slowly. His chest hurt, he was fevered, it was hard to breathe. There was something that felt almost like a hum in his head. He was also very cold. _Sleeping outside is not warm, almost as bad as camping._ _I hate camping. _The sky was a soft gray, just past sunrise, the clouds were hanging low, almost fog, promising a bright day after it had burned off. _Burn…hmm, I think I was on fire? _He pushed himself up, expected charred flesh and charcoaled clothing and was surprised to see only dew-dampened jeans. _Ok, maybe not actually on fire? That's something. _

Sam sat staring, a little blindly, at the lake, the soft clouds drifting in the trees with gossamer threads. _Dean, we were dying. I'm alive. _He took a breath and the odd double sensation was there, Dean's heart beating, his own mirroring it. He could taste the medicinal taste of oxygen and feel the bite of the IV in his brother's arm. _Well at least he's sleeping through that. _

A jarring sound intruded on the quiet. At first he couldn't place it. _Is that my phone? _Sam struggled to his feet and stumbled towards the car. The phone stopped ringing as he wrenched the door open. He picked it up off the seat. _Twenty-seven missed calls? Bobby. _Sam dialed. "Hey, Bobby," he said, surprised at how rough his voice was. It was hard to breathe, he dropped into the seat of the Impala.

"Sam, where the hell have you been?" Bobby demanded, an urgent tone in his voice. "You can't do that ritual, I found more information…"

"What?" Sam said, digging around under the seat, hoping to find a bottle of water.

"The binding, the human effigy…"

"Yeah?" He found a bottle and drank a little, hoping the cool liquid would help his growing headache, he coughed a little, his chest gurgling with the spasm.

"You did it, didn't you?" Bobby said. "You already did it." There was a note of desperation in Bobby's voice.

"I told you, Bobby." He rested his head on the back of the seat. "What's up? What about the ritual?"

"The binding, Sam. The shaman is physically tied to the other person," Bobby said desperately.

"Yeah, Bobby, you said that earlier." _I did do a little research on my own, you know._

"But Sam, you are tied to Dean…"

"Yeah, I got it, I figured that out when we died a little while ago."

"What?"

"Our hearts stopped. I think they must have resuscitated Dean and it affected me, too," he said, wearily. "I need to pick up my stuff and head into town."

"God damn it, Sam, there's more."

"What?"

"Even if the demon is banished…"

"It is," Sam said, pulling himself out of the car and walking back to fill the hole and grab the blanket.

"You are still bound to Dean, until that runs its course, you can't break it or Dean dies."

"Yeah?" he said, only half listening. _Does that mean he gets to wear the faerie wand until the spell runs its course? He'll love me for that. I can't wait for that moment. _

"The shaman dies, Sam. The illness it is at least partially transferred over, the effigy becomes the vessel, the other might be healed, but the effigy…" Bobby trailed off.

"I know, Bobby," he said, tossing the shovel and the blanket in the trunk.

"What?" Bobby said, barely audible.

"I know," Sam said, getting into the car and turning the engine on. "I knew going in to it." _And even if I didn't it wouldn't have changed anything, Bobby, not one thing._

"But Sam…"

"I think I might have figured a way around it." He was maneuvering down the road, hoping he could keep going long enough to get back to the hospital.

"You think you might have," Bobby snarled. "Is that like playing Russian roulette and being pretty sure you have the empty chamber before you pull the trigger?"

"Something like that, Bobby." He coughed again, reaching for the bottle he took another sip. "I need to go."

"Sam…Damn it."

"Talk to you later, Bobby," he said, breaking the connection. _Before he says he's coming out, before he yells at me some more. _Sam turned the Impala into the hospital lot, picking a parking place near the doors. He wandered into the building, aware of the strain on his body, a scraping in his throat. The espresso bar was open, the girl with the blue lip ring was working that morning.

"Hey, Sam," she said with a broad smile. "Wow, you look terrible."

"Thanks," he said, his voice sounding hoarse.

"Vanilla latte, on the house," she said, pulling a cup off of the stack. "Did you find Mara's shop?"

"Mara's? Oh, the pagan shop," Sam said. "Yeah, she was very helpful."

"She has everything in there, and she just knows so much," she said as she steamed the milk. "She's helped me so many times."

"Yeah," Sam said, taking the latte.

"Sam?" she said a little shyly. "Do you think that after your brother is better you might want to maybe get dinner or something?"

_Did she just ask me out? _"Uh, maybe, after Dean is better," he said, turning away. _I won't run, that would be undignified, of course the blush is probably not all that dignified either. _He took the elevators up to Dean's floor, leaning against the wall on the way up. _I am not getting better. _ _I might have guessed wrong. But if Dean's ok, that's what matters. _The doors opened, he pushed himself out of the elevator and down the hall.

"How is my brother?" he said, stopping Dean's doctor in the corridor.

"We nearly lost him," the doctor said with his matter-of-fact compassion. "But he seems to be holding his own right now."

_Yeah, I knew that._"And? Is there any change?" _Please?_

"No," the doctor said, looking at him with a frown that seemed to say "of course not." He smiled the compassionate smile. "No change."

"Thanks," Sam said, turning to Dean's room. He walked in, the hum in his head was more pronounced. _Dean. It's Dean. I wonder how long the binding lasts? If I live, of course. _The hum growled a bit at that thought, not a conscious word, just a slight grumble.

"I'm back, Dean," he said, wondering if he needed to vocalize the words at all. "The demon is banished, staked into the earth for the next thirty-nine years, maybe more, but at least that many." He sank down in the chair beside the bed and put the coffee on the tray, his throat hurt too much to drink anything. It was hard to breathe, his heart was beating sluggishly, his head hurt, his chest hurt, he was fevered._And listen to me complain. _

Sam leaned back in the chair, propping his feet on the edge of Dean's bed. He was fading a little. _I knew it, though, I still hope… _He let himself relax, let the thin red line binding him to his brother thicken, strengthen. As he let go, he allowed the machine breathing for Dean to assist his lungs a little. The hum muttered a little, concerned._It's ok, Dean. I just need a little sleep. _He wasn't sure if he said it or thought it. Sam closed his eyes and let himself drift away into the gentle drugged sleep holding his brother and now affecting him.

"He's improving." The voice cut into Sam's sleep, rousing him a little. "I don't understand." _What did he just say? Dean?_

"His fever went down a little after his brother arrived," another voice said. Sam opened his eyes. The doctor and the nurse were standing on the other side of the bed, talking quietly.

"What?" he said, his voice was hoarse, barely a croak.

The doctor looked over with a genuine smile. "Your brother is improving."

"Really?" _Just tell me, please._

"Really," the doctor said, shaking his head. "I don't understand, never seen anything like it. His immune system started working again."

"Will he live?"_Will he live? _Sam swallowed, waiting, holding his breath. His hands were shaking. _Will he live? Please just tell me. Dean? If he says you are going to live you listen, ok? If he says anything else just ignore it. _

"I think he might," the doctor said, still shaking his head a little. "Damndest thing I've ever seen." He looked at Sam again, his eyes reflecting confusion, and wandered out of the room, muttering a little under his breath, still shaking his head. Sam thought he saw him shrug.

"When are visiting hours over?" Sam croaked out.

"About three hours ago," the nurse said gently. "You slept through two shifts." She smiled at Sam.

"Thanks," he said._Was it the hot Heather nurse that let me stay? _He struggled to sit up, aware of the fever still in his body. _Don't go, Sam, _a whisper said. "I won't," he answered softly.

"The doctor hopes to start getting your brother off the respirator tomorrow morning."

"He's that much better?"

"Yes," she smiled again and left the room.

"Tomorrow, Dean," he said softly. _Tomorrow. _"I'm going to sleep a little more, ok?" He sighed and leaned back into the chair and turned on the TV. There was nothing really on, so he stopped flipping at the History Channel, finding a program on haunted America. He was asleep before he found out about the Strange Occurrence in Cle Elum.

It was lighter in the room, the soft glow waking Sam. He opened his eyes. A nurse was standing by Dean's bed. Sam watched her for a minute. She looked over and smiled at him and said something about weaning Dean off the respirator. Sam nodded, not fully awake and let his eyes close again._Still a little fevered, not feeling all that well, really. _He listened to the infomercial on TV for awhile, letting his mind wander, still aware of the hum in his head, of the red line connecting him to Dean.

_Sammy? _The voice drifted into the edge of his sleep. _Sam?_ A little more urgent that time._ SAM?_ Panicked.

Sam's eyes snapped open and he was on his feet beside Dean's bed before he was awake._What is it? Why is he panicking? He's waking up. Oh, god, restraints, he panics every time. Every time. _His hand dropped down onto his brother's arm. "It's ok, Dean," he said, wondering if he had imagined the shout.

_What's going on?_

He felt his body reacting to the tube in his throat, attempting to escape the sensation of choking. Sam took a deep breath, trying to be calm. "It's the respirator, Dean, try and relax and let it do the work for you. They're starting to take you off of it, I know it sucks—you know the drill."

_Sam? You can hear me?_

"Yeah," he said, looking down at Dean, his brother's eyes fluttered open. Sam felt a grin start on his face. "Hey."

**XXX**

The gentle dark had claimed him, pulled him away with sharp claws. He remembered his brother's hand on his, long after everything that warm bond was there. _Oh, god, Sammy, please don't let this be goodbye. _Then the dark, silent for the most part, filled with occasional pain, a flash of something terrifying and sounds he couldn't identify. The dark had altered, changed somehow, he was not alone. _Sam? _The thought formed somewhere far below the surface. Then, suddenly, a spark of something that flowed through him, out of him, a red line that connected him to his brother.

_Sam? What the hell are you doing?_

"Dean?" his brother's voice echoed back along the line.

He wasn't sure what Sam was doing. It was a ritual of some kind, intricate. He tried to stop his brother, tried to keep him from following through, knowing all the time it was too late. _Stop. Sam stop. _Far too late to save his brother. _Whatever you are doing, stop it. I mean it. _He could feel the flames consuming Sam, the pain passing from his body to his brother. Sam raised his arms and drove the stake into Dean's shirt, he knew when it happened, he was somehow watching through Sam's eyes. Pain exploded out of the hole, back along the line connecting him to his brother. He felt Sam's heart stopping, slowing as his own ceased to function.

_SAM! _

"I think I killed us both." Sam was apologetic.

_Sam…No. _

"Sorry about that."

_Bye, Sammy_

"Goodbye, Dean."

They were dying. He could feel Sam fading away, the fire was burning Sam, consuming him. Regret flowed along the line. "Dean, I'm sorry," Sam whispered. "I failed you."

_Sam…No._ It was odd, aware of Sam, aware that his brother was dying, knowing he was, too. _No, Sammy. Why? Why did you do this? I can't be the cause of your death and I am. I am. God, Sam. _It was all drifting away._Sammy? Are you still there? _Silence claimed him in an explosion of pain.

The darkness was no longer lonely. He was aware somehow. There was a gentle hum, like a voice in a far-off room buzzing in his head. The voice was weary, ill. _Sam? It must be Sam. He's alive. Sam, you're alive. _The voice was a little louder suddenly "I wonder how long the binding lasts? If I live, of course," his brother's voice was clear. _Sam, what the hell have you done? _he growled, not really sure if the words had formed or were merely expressed in that growl.Dean listened as the voice quieted again, back to that soft hum. He knew when Sam was back in the room with him, he knew his brother was in trouble. The soft hum evened off as Sam fell asleep.

Pain. He was fighting for breath, fighting against something in his throat. It was a familiar sensation. Familiar and terrifying. _Sammy? _He thought he could sense his brother. _Sam? _He tried to reach up and pull the thing out of his throat. His hands were tied down in restraints._SAM? _

His brother's hand dropped onto his arm. Comforting, warm. "It's ok, Dean," Sam said.

_What's going on?_Panic tightened in his chest as air was forced into his lungs.

Sam took a deep breath. It calmed the reaction a little in Dean. "It's the respirator, Dean, try and relax and let it do the work for you. They're starting to take you off of it, I know it sucks—you know the drill."

_Sam? You can hear me?_

"Yeah," Sam said, answering him. Dean opened his eyes, Sam was smiling down at him, his eyes bright with tears. "Hey."

Dean remembered the sensation of Sam dying, of being burned alive. Panic rose to the surface again. _Sammy? Are you ok? Are you badly burned? _He pulled against the restraints trying to get a better look at his brother, trying to see what damage had been done.

"I'm not burned at all. I wasn't actually on fire." Sam chuckled softly. The laugh turned into a cough. "So, yeah, Dean, I'm ok," Sam said, dropping into the chair by the bed. He took another deep breath. Dean felt the air burn a little in his lungs.

_Yeah, sure you are._He rolled his eyes a little.

"I'll find the nurse to give you a little something for pain, ok?" Sam said, giving his arm a little squeeze.

_I'm fine, Sammy. _

Sam looked down at him with a little half smile. "That's not going to work right now, you know."

_What?_

"The lying to me, it won't work right now," Sam said, smiling. "I'll go get the nurse."

Dean watched his brother walk out of the room. Sam was walking very carefully. _Yeah, the whole not being able to lie works both ways right now, I think._He relaxed a little, let the connection with Sam drift to the top of his awareness. _Something is wrong with Sam. Something because of me. _He could feel his pain reflected through his brother, the respirator moving air in and out of his lungs, in and out of Sam._What the hell did you do? Damn it, Sam. _

"I heard that," Sam said, walking back in the room with a small red-haired nurse. She looked over at Sam with a frown on her face.

She walked up to the bed and smiled at Dean, dimples appearing in her face. "Your brother said you might need something? How's your pain?" _How the hell do you expect me to answer? Can't talk, can't use sign language, any bright ideas? _She twisted a syringe in the port of the IV. "We need to make sure you're comfortable as possible."_Gee, thanks. _Sam snorted. She looked over at Sam, then patted Dean's arm. "It won't be all that long till you're ready to come off of that." _Yep, it'll just feel like forever._ She smiled again and then walked out of the room, Dean watched her go.

"Don't even think it, Dean," Sam said with a sigh, dropping into the chair next to the bed.

_How bad, Sam?_ He looked over at his brother. Sam had dark circles under his eyes, his breathing was off a little, he was in pain.

"Not bad, Dean."

_You're lying to me. Sam? _He stopped. _How bad is he? God, Sammy, what did you do? Could he be dying? I felt him die, he's sick now. How bad is he? How bad will he get? Oh, god, as I get better will he get worse?_Dean looked over at his brother. _Sammy?_

"Yeah, Dean?"

_Are you…are you…?_Dean felt tears in his eyes. _Sam? Are you dying?_

"No, I don't think so. I think my gamble paid off."

_Sam? _That was more of a growl.

"Later, Dean." Sam leaned back in the chair and rested his hand on the edge of the bed. "Nap?"

Dean nodded and let his eyes close. He lay quietly, "listening" to his brother. Trying to figure out how much of what Sam said was true. _It felt like he believed it, although he is still worried about it. He is still a little scared about it. Sam, what the hell. I wonder how much of this he hears? _He paused, Sam's thoughts were shifting, a background rumble of dreams. _How long does it last? _He drifted off to sleep.

The dream started simply, a soft autumn day, shifting to a sense of terror, of pain, of fear and uncertainty. Dread crept through, coloring everything with a wash of gray, tears like rain brushing the walls. The panic built, Dean watched as they tried to bring him back to life, then the desperate thoughts of his brother. Sam's realization of what had happened, his determination to fix it and the certain knowledge of his own death. Dean jerked awake, _God, Sammy, I didn't realize…_Sam opened his eyes briefly and smiled sadly. "Sorry, Dean," he whispered, then closed his eyes. Dean left himself drift off again, relaxing a little, letting the pain meds pull him back into a soft sleep.

When he woke up he was alone in the room. A wispy tendril of the dream wound through his brain. His heart started pounding. _He was sure he was going to die. Where is he? Has something happened?_ _Sam?_

"I'm getting coffee, Dean, I'll be right back. The nurse said they are pulling the respirator as soon as I get back. I asked them to wait, I hope that's ok."

_Can I have some coffee?_

"No. I'll get you a chai as soon as they say it's alright."

_I want coffee._

"Don't sulk." Sam said.

_Not sulking. _He looked up at the TV, it was on the History channel. _If I have to watch that much longer I will be sulking. Why didn't he leave it on something that passes for decent TV? _He tried to shift in the bed. The restraints still held him down. Panic flared a little. _I hate restraints. _Dean tried to calm his breathing a little. _Hey, I think I am breathing on my own, mostly. Still hurts like hell. One thing at a time I guess. _

Sam walked back into the room, the rich smell of coffee coming in with him. Dean sighed. It smelled good. A nurse followed Sam into the room. She was smiling the nurse smile. _They all have that smile, every nurse everywhere. Hot, not hot, Heathers or others they all have that smile. It must be a class they take in nurse school. "The seven smiles of nursing" or something like that. _Sam put the coffee down on the bedside tray and put his hand on Dean's arm.

"Ready?" the nurse said. Dean nodded. And it was out. She carefully fitted an oxygen mask over his face and undid the restraints. "There you go, I'll have them bring some ice in, how's that sound?"

"Good," he said, surprised at how hoarse his voice was. _Of course, I just spent how long with a tube shoved down my throat? _"Thanks."

"How do you feel?" Sam said, sitting in the chair and picking up his coffee.

"Fine," Dean said. He watched Sam close his eyes and smile.

"Yeah, fine, Dean. Me, too," Sam said, still with the small smile on his face.

_Yep. I can see that. Or more to the point, I guess, I can feel that. And I know you are lying to me. Of course, I'm lying to you. This is going to be all kinds of fun. _"Sam?"

"It's going to be ok, Dean. You're going to be ok." Sam sighed. "Thank god." Dean heard the last as clearly as if Sam had said it out loud, which he hadn't.

"Tell me about it," he demanded.

Sam looked at him with a sad smile. "Just like you told me?" The thought was clear.

"I heard that, you know," Dean said. "I'm sorry, I should have mentioned it."_But I guess I thought it was the flu, or I was dead or I didn't want to worry you. I screwed up, ok? I admit it this time, I screwed up. Simple as that. _Sam was still smiling at him. Dean wondered how much of that his brother had heard. _Oh, yeah this is going to be just freaking fabulous. _"By the way, Sam, what the hell is that around your neck?"

"It's a faerie wand. You have one, too. I needed matching pendants for the ritual, these were on special," Sam said with something of a smirk.

"A what? Wait, I have one of those things on me? Take it off." _It burns, Sammy, it burns._

Sam rolled his eyes. "Cute. But I can't. Not till the spell runs its course."

"Or?"

Sam swallowed and looked away. "You die, Dean. I probably would, too." Sam turned back around, Dean wondered if his brother had meant for him to hear that thought. "It wouldn't be good."

"Death never is."

"Oh, you heard? I guess that will take a little getting used to."

"How much do you hear?" Dean asked.

"Mostly just this—I don't know—hum? Or rumble? I don't hear anything clearly unless it is directed at me, or if the emotion is strong."

"Me, too. How long does it last?"

"I don't know, Bobby might. I'll call him later and let him know everything is ok."

"Is it? Ok, I mean?" Dean asked, watching his brother, "listening" to him through the connection.

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "I think so."

"Think so? That doesn't sound very positive. Tell me about it." He felt the hesitancy in his brother. He knew Sam was ill, maybe getting worse as they spoke. His brother's breathing was a little ragged and pain was reflecting off of Sam like light on a winter lake.

"You aren't going to let that drop, are you?"

_Well, what do you think, Sammy? I'll just let your attempted suicide drop? Yeah, not that drugged up._

"It wasn't suicide," Sam snapped. He coughed a little. "I had a plan, Dean."

"Well?" Dean was looking at Sam. His brother's eyes closed. _God, Sam, you look as bad as I feel. Ok, reprieve for an hour or two. I want to sleep, too._"Sleepy, Sam."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, me too."

Dean let himself relax._I am tired and if I sleep Sam will sleep. _He sighed. _I wonder how long my chest is going to hurt like this? I wonder when I get to leave?_ Dean listened to the TV for a minute until he fell asleep.

Sam managed to avoid the topic of the ritual for the rest of the day and into the next, but Dean wasn't going to let him get away with if forever. He had every intention of dragging it all out of his brother. _Of course, I think Sam plans on a bit of dragging, too. I hear him grumbling sometimes when he's talking. Oh yeah, still fun. _They finally gave him the go ahead to leave, on the promise of strict bed rest, several days sooner than he had hoped. Dean was up and dressed and ready to go when Sam walked in the room with two paper cups.

_Oh, god, please let that be coffee._

Sam grinned at him. "Not coffee. The doctor says no caffeine until you are done with the meds."

_Damn. _"Thanks," he said, taking the cup and sniffing. _Ok, doesn't smell too bad. I think I can choke it down. _"Time to go?" he said eagerly.

"Yeah, everything is signed and ready to go, and hot Heather the nurse is bringing the wheelchair in."

"You don't have to say hot Heather, Sammy."

"I know, Dean, all Heathers are hot, right?" Sam said, grinning.

"Hell, yeah. Did I ever tell you about this Heather in Tucumcari?" _And wow, what a Heather that one was. I might just have to stop by that place again sometime. _He grinned and let a tiny little slice of that night creep to the top of his awareness.

Sam looked at him in disgust. "Stop that."

Dean laughed. _Sometimes this connection is more fun than I thought it would be. _He smiled as the Heather nurse came into the room. She smiled back a little, not much. _Well, I'm still a little sick. Not quite back to full power yet. _ He dropped into the wheelchair, Sam maneuvered him out of the room. Dean waved at the nurses on the way out. The Impala was parked in the loading zone. _Hi, sweetheart. _He sighed as Sam stopped beside the car and pulled the door open. His brother gave him a hand up and Dean plopped into the seat with a smile. _He still doesn't look very good, I'm not very good yet, so I guess that explains it. God I hope it does. Not that he can hide a lot right now._ He leaned his head back against the seat. _All that hard exercise riding in the wheelchair wore me out. _

"Dean? We're home," Sam said, giving him a little shake.

Dean opened his eyes. They were parked in front of the motel. _It seems like two months ago when all this started. _Sam walked around the car and pulled the door open, offering Dean a hand to get out. He took the hand and let Sam pull him onto his feet, swaying a little as the blood rushed out of his head. His brother kept a steadying hand on him and steered him into the room, lowering him gently onto the bed. Dean kicked his shoes off and slid under the covers.

"You need anything?" Sam said, walking into the kitchenette.

"Do you have more of that chai?" Dean said. _And then Sammy, time to talk._

"Yeah," Sam said, answering both. Dean watched his brother make the tea. Sam's hands were shaking just a little. _It's worse than you are letting on, isn't it Sam? I mean, I know how it is physically, but there is something else, just under the surface. _He quickly clamped the thoughts down so they didn't reach his brother.Sam picked up two cups and sat down on the bed facing Dean. He handed one cup to Dean and then sat, staring into his for a moment. "Why didn't you tell me the pestilence demon had gotten you?"

"I thought it was the plague rats, Sammy." _Or I was going to die and nothing you could do to stop it. _"And I did get better." _Mostly._

"Right," Sam said, looking at him. "And then when you started getting sick again?"

"I didn't think…" Dean started, Sam frowned. Dean sighed. "Ok, well I thought it was just stress." Sam's frown deepened. "Alright, I didn't know what was going on. I went back and forth from thinking it was just stress to being pretty sure I was dying. Those five days before you called 911 it was getting increasingly worse. Ok? I didn't…I thought…" He broke off when he realized he was coming very near to shouting. "Sorry." _Did my stupidity kill you, Sammy?_ The thought formed and floated to the surface before he could stop it. Sam looked at him for a long, long moment.

"What?" Sam said.

"Are you dying, Sam? I talked to Bobby and he said…" _You see, Sam I called him when I realized a little of what you'd done…_

"He's wrong, Dean," Sam said simply.

"Sam?" _The time has come. _

"To talk of many things?" Sam said. "Of shoes and ships…"

"Huh?"

"Sorry," Sam grinned. "When I realized you had been stung by the pestilence demon, I started looking for answers." Sam paused. "I'd just watched you die, Dean and I was a little upset, you know?" Dean blinked as the thought overlaid his brother's voice. "And I started to find them. I located several rituals that all seemed like part of one larger, older one. The first part required binding us together." He stopped.

_You're on a roll, Sammy don't stop there. _"Why?" Dean said.

"The rest of the ritual required an effigy."

"A human effigy?"

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. "The shaman becomes the effigy for the banishment and then the vessel for the healing afterwards."

"Yeah." _That's what Bobby told me, Sam, right before he said the shaman dies. _He felt tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

Sam put a hand on his. "I'm not dying, Dean." He smiled a little. "I was kind of counting on the binding going both ways."

"What do you mean?"

"When we died? And they resuscitated you? It started my heart again. That's when I was pretty sure it would work."

"Sam?" _I am getting the urge to kill you. _

"Well, I thought that since my immune system was working maybe the antibiotics you were getting would work for me, even if my immune system was supporting yours. Which it was." He smiled. "Kind of like a bone marrow transplant."

"Yeah," Dean said softly. _Oh god, does he…_He shut the thought down before it could form further. "You thought?"

"Well, I was pretty sure about it," Sam said.

"Pretty sure?" Dean growled. _Pretty sure, Sammy? You're lying, I was there in that dream remember? You were pretty damn sure you were going to die. _

"I might have been a little worried, Dean. But it didn't matter." Sam's eyes were bright.

_Damn it, Sammy, of course it matters. You were planning on dying. Not an option, Sam. Not ever. _Dean wasn't sure if he said it or thought it, no matter how it came out he saw the words impact his brother.

"And do you think it's an option for me, Dean? Standing there watching you die when I could maybe do something about it?" Sam snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. The tears hovering at the edge of his eyes making the anger more apparent.

"Sam…"

"I wasn't even sure it would work, you know Dean," he continued. "But I had to try something. I had to." The anger drained out of Sam as quickly as it had formed, the wave of despair washing out of his brother took Dean's breath away. "They said there was nothing they could do to help, and there was something I could do." He sighed, his eyes meeting Dean's. "And I thought that if at least the binding worked…"

"What?"

"Well, you wouldn't be alone if you died. We'd at least be together." Tears had pooled in Sam's eyes and were threatening to spill over onto his face.

"Even if you died, too?"

"Yeah."

Dean was aware of an ache in his chest and a lump threatening his throat that had nothing to do with pleurisy or pneumonia or anything else. He wasn't even sure if it started in him or Sam. _Damn it, Sammy. You can't do that kind of thing. You can't. I won't be the cause of your death. Please, Sam. I can't. _The tears that had been at the corner of his eyes started creeping gently down his face. _My fault. God, I'm sorry Sam. _

Sam looked at him, Dean felt the connection hum a little as his brother met his eyes. Sam took the cup out of his hands before pulling him into a brief, tight hug. "Not your fault, Dean. I made my own choice." Sam stood and took the cups. "You have to admit it's kind of Hammurabian."

"What?" _What, Sam? Hammu-who-bian?_

"Hammurabian Justice," Sam said. "The original let the punishment fit the crime, eye for and eye thing. You didn't let me know what was going on and now…Well…You won't be able to lie to me about it for awhile, at least."

"Yeah, well…you can't either." _And see, didn't even stick my tongue out._

"And if you try, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"It's chickens for you."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Want to watch some TV?" Sam said, dropping down on the bed next to him.

"Not History Channel, please." _Cause if you do, I'll kill you. _He let the thought drift on the surface of his mind, Sam smiled at him.

"Boobahs?" Sam said with a laugh, flipping through the stations.

"Hell no. No Boobahs. I'm going to have nightmares about Boobahs for years to come. And I'll share the nightmare every night. Every night, Sammy, haunted by Boobahs."

Sam laughed. Dean leaned his shoulder against his brother's and let his eyes close. He sighed. "I'm going to sleep for awhile."

"Sure," Sam said, pulling the blanket a little higher on his shoulder. "I'll be here."

"Thanks, Sam." _This was a little close this time, I have to admit. A little too damn close. I wonder how long the binding lasts? Is it forever? That might make life a little more interesting than before. _He sighed a little. _Yeah, too close this time. Thank you, Sammy. _He felt his brother shift a little, leaning a little more against him. _I wonder if he heard me? Doesn't matter. But if you ever try something like this again, Sammy, it's more than chickens for you._

He let himself drift off towards sleep. He was aware of Sam's breathing, the soft beat of his brother's heart, he could sense the tiny edge of pain from Sam, from himself. Dean paused, worried, a little panic creeping back into his mind. _It's ok. _His voice? Sam's? He sighed again and listened to the comforting rumble of his brother's quiet thoughts, allowing them to lull him into sleep.

_**The End**_

_A/N II: Now that they are bound together I am toying with the idea of a sequel exploring that. _


End file.
